


That Choice You Made

by ana



Series: The Ivan Tales : Marriage, Divorce, Love and Chocolate Cake [1]
Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: Acceptance, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cake, Denial, F/M, Family Drama, Fights, Fire, Friendship, Male Friendship, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Men Being Awesome, Relationship(s), Revenge, Surveillance, Tragedy/Comedy, Trust, Weapons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-03-15 11:53:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 23,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3446192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ana/pseuds/ana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ivan and Martya get together. Watch them fall apart, and their family and friends reactions. It's not all bleak.  There are some funny elements or maybe it's only funny to my sick mind...</p><p>Chapters:</p><p>1.       Martya’s List (Warning)<br/>2.       Coupling (Duvelia|Martya’s Mug)<br/>3.       Drinks with Duv, Dinner with Martya (Bugs)<br/>4.       Revelations (Crushed Flowers)<br/>5.       Nothing To See (Alys’s Decision|Dono Has Something To Say)<br/>6.       Eyes on the Vor (A Vor In His Own Habitat)<br/>7.       Interlude -  While The Vor Sleeps (Illyan’s Daughter)<br/>8.       The Vor Make A Decision (Eve Makes That Call)<br/>9.       Aral’s Ghosts (Ivan has Visitors)<br/>10.   Fire and Ice (Ivan Returns Her Belongings |Miles Makes His Point)<br/>11.   Epilogue (Endings, Beginnings and Ma Kosti’s cold Summer Soup</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Martya’s List (The Warning)

**Author's Note:**

> This was never meant to be this long but it evolved as these things tend to do. I wanted to see what would happen to Ivan if he was betrayed by someone he never expected. To be completely blindsided. And yes due to this evolving like it has I am writing a short (please God let it be short) 'sequel'.

 

So Martya invited Ivan for dinner at the Koudelka House. Her parents and Delia were at ImpRes and Olivia had promised to make herself scarce but refused to leave the house. Ivan was suspicious about the invite. Martya had told him she’d done some thinking, changed her mind and wanted to discuss his marriage proposal. Ivan wondered if it was all a setup to punish him for his ‘ill thought out proposal’ – that’s what Drou called it and he preferred those words to the quite vicious ones Delia had said to him.

But he told Martya that he’d done some thinking too, told her she was right in the first place to refuse him (there was no way he was going to admit he’d had second thoughts.) He expected Martya to tear him to shreds but instead she said she was glad he’d thought about it and all she wanted was to talk to him, “but of course, Ivan, you’re under no obligation. We’re still friends.”  He didn’t want to analyse why the whole thing both relieved and saddened him.

In the kitchen, after eating two fine courses (not made by Martya thank God), they tucked into dessert and Martya told him her reasoning.

“I met an old friend today. It was quite unexpected, I won’t tell you who because that’s not important, but she reminded me of something. Of how things can go wrong when you make decisions too late,” she sighed and added another slice of honey cake to her plate, “and of how I was going to approach my future marriage and you know, Ivan – I haven’t done so. I was going to be logical about it but somehow along the way I forgot all about that.”

“Logical?”

“Yes. I’m not like my sisters, Ivan. You know that?”

Ivan had no idea what she was getting at in particular, but he knew that was true. He nodded.

“I’ve never fallen in love. Never even had one of those mad crushes. Have you ever been in love? I mean properly in love like Tatya and Rene?”

Ivan shifted in his seat. “This is getting quite personal.”

“We’re talking about marriage. This _is_ about the personal.”

 Ivan investigated his cake with the fork. “I don’t think so.”

“Then you haven’t,” Martya said in that all-knowing way of hers. “And I realised I never will.”

Ivan looked up at her. “You can’t say that.”

“I can,” Martya said with a shrug. “I’m too practical to fall in love but I want to choose my partner on my own terms. I’m not going to go all Time of Isolation and let my parents pick my spouse but I’m going to approach it in the same practical manner. The upshot of it all is I made a list of the men in my life because I’m not going to be so foolish as some people and marry someone I don’t know.  So I did some research, gathered the evidence I needed, added up the positives and imagine my surprise when you came top of the list.”

Ivan gave her a look.

“That came out the wrong way,” she said. “I mean I realised you had more positive attributes than I had previously considered.”

Ivan let out a laugh. “ _Thank_ you.”

She threw a napkin at him. “You know I don’t dress things up in that mawkish mealy-mouthed way. It’s important to be honest. If you park your ego, Ivan, you can see it’s a compliment. And it isn’t just your wealth and independence. I wanted to make that clear but of course I considered it.”

Ivan paused before he spoke. “If you were that type of person, I wouldn’t have come, and you would have just said yes to my proposal in the first place.”

 

Martya was obviously surprised by his answer but Ivan swallowed the implied insult with a shrug. This was Martya after all. He was used to it. “Well, yes.” Martya smiled. “Thank you. So what do you think?”

“About what?”

Martya sighed. “Marriage to me. I don’t want an answer today.” (Ivan breathed a sigh of relief.) “I can appreciate how my original refusal may have dented that Vor pride of yours but if you can see past it I would like you to consider it. If you say no, I won’t hold it against you, Ivan. You don’t owe me anything. I know I’m a good catch and I’m not going to beg.”

Ivan knew that stubborn look and tried hard to smother his grin. All in all he thought he was taking this quite well. It wasn’t the first time a woman had proposed to him but this was the first time he’d been asked like it was a business proposal. He surveyed her for a moment. “So who didn’t come up to scratch - who are the losers on the list?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Can’t you even give me a hint?”

“Ivan be serious.  Your 30 and you’ve never been in love but that doesn’t matter if that’s what you’re waiting for. But if you’re not, don’t you want that part of your life to start? Do you want to be left behind while everyone else is moving forward with their lives?”

Martya’s blunt assessment nearly made him lose his appetite.

“I don’t love you in that way and I’m not going to pretend I do,” Martya continued. “I’m sure that will grow during marriage though. We have a good head start after all – we’re friends and we’d know what we’re getting into. I want my life to move forward and I see this as part of that path. You have to think about that too, if you can see yourself on that path with me.” And she let out a whoosh of breath after that long speech. “You can go home now and think about it.”

“You want me to take this dessert home?”

“What? Oh no, of course not, finish it.”

“Your mother always lets me take some extra home.”

“That’s because she spoils you. She made extra just for you take home.”

Ivan grinned. “Your mama’s the best.”

 “Yeah.” She cleared her throat. “Actually there is _one_ more thing, Ivan.” And she stopped.

Ivan motioned with his fork for her continue.

“If we marry I expect loyalty.  It will be just you and me. I don’t …” Ivan’s look cut right through her. She could feel the colour rising in her cheeks. “You have a reputation which I’m sure you know.”

“I see.” Ivan put down his fork and sat back. There was a long pause before he spoke again. “My past relationships are none of your business, Martya. I don’t discuss them but other people do. But I’ll tell you since you need to be told: I’m honest in all my relationships. I don’t cheat. Have any of my exes told you I have?”

Martya cringed. “No I – no.”

He nodded. “I didn’t think so. In marriage I would expect the same as you. Loyalty is important to me – it’s a matter of honour. I never thought I’d have to spell that out to you, but if you think I’m the kind of man to betray you we shouldn’t go any further.”

“I don’t! I believe you. I didn’t mean to insult you, Ivan.”

But she had and Ivan realised all at once that he trusted Martya to the point where he would never have questioned her loyalty to him. In fact he trusted her in a way he had never trusted any of his lovers.

Ivan got up. “You said ‘reputation’, you didn’t base this on anything you _know_ about me.”

“I don’t - God. Alright I did. I assumed a lot of - I’m sorry, Ivan.” She stood up and touched his arm, forcing him to look at her. She never expected him to be offended by this but it made her feel better because it meant it mattered to him. And that made it easier to apologise. “I mean it, Ivan.  I’m sorry. And you know we Koudelkas rarely apologise.”

That made him smile and Martya smiled back in relief. “Let me pack you up some cake to take home.”

***

 Olivia trotted down the stairs in her pyjamas. “He gone then?”

“You were listening, weren’t you?”

Olivia put on her most innocent look. “Moi?”

Martya shook her head. “You better not snitch.”

“I won’t say anything but I hope he says no.”

“What?” Martya stared. “Hey, you’re not-“

“Don’t be stupid. I’ve never thought about him like that, but I think it’s wrong of you to rule out love just because Mila’s marriage has gone west and she reminded you of your stupid marriage criteria. I don’t agree with your approach to marriage at all.”

Martya snorted. “You’re too young to understand, and I mean young up here,” she said tapping her temple.

“And you think you’re so grown up and broad minded just because you’re being cold and logical about it,” Olivia retorted.  “Well I think it’s narrow thinking that can only end badly. I just hope Ivan has more sense than you do.” And with that, Olivia began to charge back up the stairs.

Martya frowned. “I don’t understand why you’re so against it.”

Olivia stopped, turned around and sighed. “You really want me to tell you? Let’s start with the first most obvious thing - you don’t like officers!”

“That’s not true, although most of them are idiots but you have to work with what you have, Olivia, and we live in officer central. Ivan can’t help it if he’s an officer and I’m not going to expect him to resign just on my preference. That’s not a deal breaker.”

Olivia rolled her eyes. “How magnanimous of you. And you’re only 20 and you act like your 30 or something and running out of time.”

Martya shook her head. “It’s a sensible decision. With Gregor’s marriage there’s going to be lots of guests and Ivan’s bound to catch someone’s eye. Now is the time to decide.”

“And what if _you_ catch someone’s eye?”

Martya nodded. “I often do but it’s never anyone I want to be caught by. I’m not holding out for some ideal that will never happen, especially as I don’t even know what that is. And besides love isn’t all it’s cracked up to be either, look at Mila and-”

“Spare me that speech, I’ve heard it. And here’s the last thing and the most important.   When Ivan takes you anywhere you complain of two things about him and it’s _always_ the same two things. You say he’s either too attentive or not attentive enough. And this is the man you want to marry?”

Martya laughed. “What’s _that_ got to do with anything? When - if we marry, these things will sort themselves out. We’ll get to know each other better.”

“You’ve known him your whole life!” Olivia threw her arms up in the air. “You don’t understand what I mean. This must be how Cassandra felt. No one listens to me either. I’m going to bed.”

“Well thanks for your _wisdom_ anyway,” Martya said after her, “oh Prophetess of Cheer.” Olivia responded to this sarcasm with some very unladylike swearing.

Martya wasn’t so confident when she went to bed but she dealt with it. She picked apart every doubt and resolved them with cool logic and by reminding herself about her friend Mila, about her crying about her husband. Martya would also recall her list and chart and think about her life.  Standing still. Not moving forward. Just what was she waiting for? No, this was right. And if Ivan said no, she would just consider the second one on the list. Perhaps. 

Olivia’s words kept her up all night. But when Ivan said yes two days later, Martya knew it was the right choice.

Ivan decided he was ready to start on this path too and once he made that decision he found he was quite looking forward to it, besides he’d have a long engagement to get used to it. (Not that he needed to get used to it...)

But what was the point in waiting like Delia and Duv, Martya had asked. She didn’t want a big wedding or to wait until Gregor’s wedding was over. It made sense to get married as soon as they could. And if not everyone could make it, they could have a bigger reception afterwards couldn’t they? This way they could start on their new path now. Together.

Martya had her heart set on a prompt wedding, and Ivan was sure she must be right, there was no reason to delay.

They were married within a month.


	2. Coupling (Duvelia|Martya’s Mug)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ivan and Martya are married.

**Duv’s Apartment**

“I know something’s wrong.”

“You’ve asked her.” Duv reached across and the table and squeezed Delia’s hand. “She said everything’s fine. What more can you do?”

“Martya rarely comes to the house with Ivan. Just says they’re busy with wedding duties - when she isn’t busy with whatever Kareen and Mark are up to with those…bugs.”

“And what’s wrong with that?”

“It’s the way she says it.  The way she changes the subject.  I can’t explain it with facts.  It’s instinct. And I have good instincts, Duv. They’ve only been married a few months and -”

“And they’ve known each other most of their lives.  Not all couples are the same.  Some couples like distance from each other.  And Martya doesn’t strike me as…”

“As what?”

“As someone who would let Ivan get away with anything...untoward.”

“You think he’s done something too?”

“No. I don’t,” Duv said as firmly as he could.  “This is why I didn’t want to discuss it.  This is dangerous ground, Delia.  You have no proof and it’s none of our business.” 

Delia tried to pull her hand away.  “She’s my sister.”

Duv held her hand tight.  “And Ivan’s our friend.  You were mistaken before.” Before her temper could flare, he brushed his mouth across her wrist and watched a different light come into her eyes.

“You’re trying to distract me,” she said with a sigh.

Duv stood and moved to Delia’s chair; he reached down and ran his fingers across her cheek and down to her neck.  “Damn right I am. This is our first evening together in ten days and I have to take you home in four hours so your father doesn’t kill me.  Do you honestly want to spend our few hours talking about this?”

“No but-“

  “From tomorrow it’s going to get worse.  I was half hoping the Emperor wasn’t joking today when he threatened to run away and elope.”

Delia let out a small laugh. “Did you see Laisa’s face?  She looked so hopeful, poor thing.”

Duv poured another glass of red, handed it to her and then moved behind to massage her shoulders, and explore the fastenings on her dress.  “Eloping’s not a bad idea,” he murmured.

“My family would kill me. And then they would kill you.  Especially after Martya’s rushed, small wedding –“

“Small?  There were at least two hundred people there.” Duv frowned. “How many guests are you expecting at ours?”

Delia decided this was a discussion for another time. “My parents would never forgive me if I eloped, and stop changing the subject.” She leaned back into Duv’s hands and sighed.  “I know I’m not going to get anywhere with Martya, you’re right.  Asking her about Ivan just puts her back up.”

“Good.”

 “So perhaps _you_ could speak to Ivan?”

“What? Delia-”

“Please, Duv.”

Duv started to unbind her hair.  “The last time you asked me to talk to him I thought he was going to challenge me to a duel.  Never glimpsed that temper before.”

“Not many people have, it’s rare.  The other reason I’m concerned.”

“Not that I’m afraid of him,” Duv continued a touch defensively. “I could beat him in a duel.”

Delia suppressed a smile. “Yes, I’m sure you could. And besides, I wasn’t the only one who thought Martya might be pregnant.  None of us know why they got married so quickly.”

“You heard what she said – she didn’t want to wait until this circus is over. I’m beginning to think she had the right idea.”

“It was Ivan’s decision too.”

Duv didn’t respond.

“Do you know something?” Delia turned, her dress falling slightly off her shoulders. “Duv?”

“Yes. I do know something.” He kissed her mouth and pulled her up as her dress rustled to the floor. “I know you’re not going to stop talking about this until I agree to speak to Ivan.”

Delia smiled. “You’re a prince, Galeni.  Now we can get to number 14 on my list.” And stepping out of her dress she pulled him in the direction of the bedroom.

***

**Martya and Ivan’s Apartment**

“I didn’t force you to get this apartment, Ivan.”

Ivan gritted his teeth. “That isn’t what I said.” He liked the apartment, it was bigger than his old bachelor flat but the reason he bought it was never here to enjoy it.  Martya began taking the dishes out of the cupboard and slamming them on the counter. The dishes Ivan had spent most of yesterday unpacking.

“It’s not my fault I’ve been busy,” Martya declared, “it’s not my fault I haven’t had the luxury of spending all my time unpacking. Not only am I helping Mama with Gregor’s wedding but I’m helping Kareen out too. And all I asked was where my mug was. I don’t know why you’re getting so touchy about it.”

“And as I’ve already told you,” Ivan said, trying not to rise to Martya’s tone, “I don’t know where your mug is. And I’ve been busy too. I’ve been assigned duties for the wedding and -”

“I never said you weren’t busy but you expect me to be here, don’t you? At your beck and call. Sometimes, Ivan, you act just like my dad.”

Ivan didn’t even bother to touch that one mainly because that headache that had been nagging him had returned with a vengeance.  He rubbed the base of his neck to ease it and looked at Martya muttering as she examined cupboards; he knew he should just keep quiet. He should just let it go but for some reason today he just couldn’t quite get there. But he’d be reasonable. Explain it all calmly.

“Look, Martya, you’re the one who said you had the afternoon off.  You’re the one who said you wanted to help me and you didn’t want me to do it myself. That you wanted us to do this together since you've been too busy to spend any time with me.”

“Don’t talk to me like that, Ivan. I’m not a child. Plans change. And I already apologised for that and I’m not going to apologise again. There was a problem with the butter bugs and I said I’d help! That doesn’t mean you have to be so childish and hide my mug!”

“I didn’t touch your fucking mug!” Oh God, Ivan clutched his head. That was a mistake.

“Don’t you swear at me,” Martya yelled. Ivan winced again as Martya continued. “I’ve had enough of this. I’m going to have breakfast at Vorkosigan House.”

“Again? Well I’m sure you’ll find your mug there since you spend more time there than -”

Martya had already slammed out of the apartment. Ivan couldn’t believe it. He’d lost his temper with her, a temper which seemed to be surfacing too much lately. He drowned a glass of water with some painkillers and thought about the whole stupid argument. If she thought he was going apologise she could think again.

He knew he was going to be the one to apologise first.

He just couldn’t understand what he was doing wrong. Everyone kept telling him that marriage required work and that he had to think of Martya’s needs above his own – wasn’t he doing that? Hadn’t he bought this apartment because she said the other one was too crowded? She spent a lot of time in that spare room though. She’d taken to sleeping in there sometimes but he didn’t want to think about that too much. It was temporary he was sure.  

***

 **A** **few weeks later…**

Martya pulled herself up, her head falling back against the propped up pillow. She slowly rubbed her gritty eyes, letting out a pained breath.

_This has to stop._

It seemed like every time she was with Ivan she would say things which just weren’t like her. She didn’t like it. She just wasn’t like this with anyone else - not when she was helping her mother and Lady Alys with the royal wedding preps, nor when she was working with Enrique which she was not only good at but was enjoying more than she’d enjoyed anything in the longest time.  She didn’t feel crowded at Vorkosigan House but when she was with Ivan...

Less than six months of marriage and she was hiding in her room. She slowly got out of bed and frowned.

 _This isn’t me. Koudelkas don’t hide_. _Tonight when Ivan comes home we’ll go out to dinner – it’ll be fine._ _We’ll spend time together, get back to normal…but what’s normal?_   Things had been bad for a while but now - if only he would stop trying to be with her all the time. Couldn’t he see she needed space away from him?  She gave him space didn’t she? She never nagged him to spend time with her! She respected _his_ privacy.

And it’s not as if they hadn’t talked – she’d tried to explain to him how she felt. They’d argued but - Martya tugged at her hair, part of her wanting to go back to ignoring the unhappy elephant in the room. And if Ivan hadn’t brought up having kids last night she wouldn’t have got so mad would she? How could he think children were a good idea when things were like this? How could he be such an idiot?

But at one time she wanted children, he’d been right about that – why did the idea make her feel so trapped now? It was the wrong time. That’s all she knew. He must know that. It was too early.

Her head ached. Her stomach twisted. But no, she wouldn’t be disheartened

No. All couples must go through this. Maybe even perfect Delia did although she never looked like it, and Martya would never ask her. How could she tell anyone that she felt that – no, it didn’t matter. It was just temporary. She was married to Ivan and they would make it work.  She wasn’t going to be in a miserable marriage like her friend Mila. They would fix it. She was nothing like Mila.

She sat down heavily on the edge of the bed and fell back, slowly pulling her knees up to her chest, holding herself tight as if something terrible would happen if she let go.


	3. Drinks with Duv, Dinner with Martya (Bugs)

 

After going around the houses, Ivan wasn’t pleased when Duv finally got to the point of this after work drink. Delia must have been on his case. Ivan said as much after Duv’s not so subtle probing about Martya. Duv couldn’t deny it but he said that wasn’t the reason.

“You want to tell me anything, it goes no further.”

“No further than Delia?” Ivan asked with a raised eyebrow.

 But Duv stayed serious. “No further,” Duv repeated.

Ivan stared into his beer. “I don’t have anything to tell you, Duv. I don’t know why Delia thinks I do. You can tell her I said so when you report back.”

“I don’t report to Delia.”

“Course you don’t. I can hardly see that leash she has around your neck.” Ivan had had a gutful of accusatory questions from Kareen and Delia at last night’s dinner. Only Olivia talked to him as if his whole life didn’t revolve around her sister. It was actually a relief to talk about Lord Dono.

“Things seemed a little tense yesterday,” Duv understated.

Ah yes. Martya danced one dance with Ivan and he thought things were going so well he suggested they take another turn and Martya had pulled away from him like he was her captor. “ _We’re not joined at the hip, for God’s sake, Ivan. Let me breathe.”_

 No one had heard her but it hadn’t mattered. They avoided each other all evening. Ivan told his mother everything was fine and luckily for him the crowd of guests made it easy for him to avoid his family. He ended up spending most of the time with Laisa’s family and trying to cheer Laisa up as one of her friends hadn’t turned up to any of the wedding events. Laisa then asked how married life was but not in a loaded way. And he said what he always said and what he said to Duv now:

“Everything’s fine, couldn’t be better.” Because things were bound to get better.

“Ivan -”

“And it’s none of your business. Want to discuss the fine Delia with me, Duv? She ever tell you I was her first kiss?”

Duv had nothing to say to that. Ivan had regretted it after but if kept Duv from trying to spy on him on behalf of Delia, Ivan didn’t care. At least Miles hadn’t said anything but then Miles had a lot on his plate.

Martya was surprisingly home when he returned and suggested they go to dinner tomorrow evening. She’d even booked a table at her favourite restaurant. The last time they were meant to go out to dinner she had cancelled - after leaving him with a nice humiliating wait in the restaurant for forty minutes.

Ivan would have preferred to just stay in, for it to be just the two of them but after noting the look on her face he backtracked and said the dinner was a great idea but that he’d rather they meet at home and go from there. She agreed.

**The White Duck restaurant**

He thought the dinner was going well. But it was crowded and several people stopped at their table to talk to them and although Ivan tried to hint them away Martya didn’t, so most of the evening they spent talking to other people. From Lord Dono to the Vorbretten Countship to the Royal Wedding – there was a lot of excited gossip and Ivan admired the way Martya dealt with all the probing. Like him she was a veteran at dealing with it but it was still something to see. He told her of his admiration and she accused him of patronising her.

“I was being serious,” Ivan said and reached across and touched her hand and Martya snatched it back.

“Thanks then,” Martya said hurriedly.  “Are you getting dessert?”

 “Yeah. Of course.”

They ordered a platter of sweet pastries. Martya picked at hers and Ivan could only digest one mouthful. It was getting too quiet. The silence stretching out. She had said thanks after all. Ivan decided that was good, it was one of the nicest things she’d said to him in a long time. He could feel that weight descending though, pushing all the words away and he couldn’t stand it. With forced, blunt cheeriness he pushed the conversation on to Martya’s interests.

“So what’s it like working with Mark’s weird bugs.”

“Why do you have to say it like that?”

“Like what?”

“You’re too hard on Mark.”

“All I said was –“

“Well don’t. I like Mark,” she said defiantly.

Ivan nodded, “I’m glad,” he said carefully, “since you’re working with him.” _All the damn time._

Martya gave him a look and then sighed. God what was wrong with her? He was being nice and she was being horrible. She stopped probing the dessert and dropped her hands into her lap and squeezed them together. She nodded. “Right. Good...good.”

Ivan drained his glass and poured another for himself and for Martya.  “So is that scientist still there? What’s his name?”

Martya took a sip of wine before she spoke. “Enrique Borgos.”

“Right. What’s he like? I’ve never-“

“Ivan, don’t spoil this.”

A few people looked around at her raised voice but Ivan made sure he didn’t take his eyes off Martya. He kept a smile on his face and lowered his voice. “Keep your voice down.”

“Then stop interrogating me about my work! Can’t you understand?  This is something I’m doing for me. It has nothing to do with you.  We don’t have to share everything.”

“We don’t share anything.”

“It’s suffocating,” Martya continued, shaking her head. “Well this is my work and I’m not doing anything wrong. Give me some space for God's sake. I don’t want to talk about it.”

Ivan let out a hollow laugh. “Fine. Then tell me, Martya because I give up, what do you want to talk about?”

“I’m tired,” Martya said. So damn tired. “Let’s take dessert home.”

They didn’t speak all the way home. Before she retreated into her room Ivan stepped forward to stop her, briefly touching her arm but he jolted at her recoil away from him. “ _Don’t_. Just don’t. I told you…I’m tired, Ivan. I’m going to bed.”

She worked late at Vorkosigan House the next day. And the next. Sometimes staying the odd night, because she said it was easier - she didn’t want to come in late and wake him.

Wake him?

They didn’t share a room let alone a bed.

But he was tired too and he was determined not give up. Since she was spending all this time with Mark the only thing he could do was to go there and see what all the fuss was about.  


	4. Revelations (Crushed Flowers)

Ivan entered Vorkosigan House after a long hesitation at the door.  A hesitation he would often think back on and the timing of it all. Mark was jogging down the stairs when Ivan walked into the vestibule and stopped to nod to him. Ivan nodded back.

“Martya about?” Ivan asked.

“Basement.”

Ivan nodded again

He made his way down and practiced various things he would say to her. His idea for them to go away for a day he thought was a good one.  Surely they could carve out some time. If they got away maybe things would be different. He stopped walking when he heard the laughter. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d heard Martya laugh like that – the last time she sounded so…happy. He clutched the flowers tighter as he walked to the open door, across the threshold and froze.

“Look at you, honestly, Enrique,” Martya scolded softly, “you’re a mess.” She was touching him. Her hand was on Borgos’s shoulder, the other hand wiping his cheek with her fingertips; she was touching him - she was smiling – they were both smiling but it was the look more than that. The look on her face hit Ivan between the eyes. For him. For Borgos – never once had she looked like –

“What the hell is this?” Ivan dropped the flowers and trampled them as he walked into the room, his voice sounded calm but odd through the roaring in his ears. Martya sprang back off the sofa and stood. Guilt. That’s all Ivan could see now. Guilt on her face. “Nothing. We weren’t doing anything.”

Borgos turned to him still smiling – _smiling!_ “I got some of the butter on my-” Ivan didn’t remember it. Even when he would look back he didn’t remember picking that smug bastard up and slamming him against the wall. Everything had come together in his head to one bright red conclusion with Martya screaming at him, hammering hard at his back to let go.

“Leave him alone! Are you crazy! What are you doing!!?”

Ivan stared at him. Incredulous. “With him? All this time you’ve been _with him_?”

And all of sudden it all made a sickening kind of sense.

“No! No! God damn it Ivan you’re hurting him!” She couldn’t pull him off, she grabbed the nearest thing to her and slammed a metal tray hard on Ivan’s head and he staggered back, hands clutching his head

 “You people are crazy,” Borgos gasped sliding to the floor

“Don’t you dare go near him, Ivan.” Martya’s voice shook as she spoke. “You’re a lunatic! Are you drunk? We weren’t doing anything! Mark! Thank God!  Get Ivan out of here. He’s gone crazy. He’s hurt Enrique.”  

“Ivan looks hurt himself…Martya?” Mark was wishing he hadn’t seen what he’d seen. Wishing he hadn’t followed Ivan.  Martya leaned down to Enrique then suddenly snatched her hands back. She  turned around but before she could say anything Ivan nailed her with a look. She staggered back.

“I’m fine,” Ivan said with a calmness that belied the look in his eyes. "What’s stopping you from pawing him now, Martya? Don’t let me stop you.”

“You’ve – you’ve got a filthy mind! I’ve not done anything and neither has he.” She turned to Mark, away from the way Ivan looked at her. The way he spoke to her. “Enrique didn’t do anything!” Martya said. “I was just cleaning his face that’s all and Ivan came in and acted like an idiot.”

Mark didn’t know what the hell to say. He’d never seen Martya like this, her voice shaking, unsteady.  

“I don’t even know who that is,” Borgos said to no-one in particular.

Mark stepped forward.  “This is Lord Ivan Vorpatril. You’ve met him before.” Borgos still had a blank look. _For God’s sake!_ “Martya’shusband.”

Borgos looked at Martya in utter surprise. “You’re married?”

Ivan reared up, knocking Mark to the ground but instead of going for Borgos he went straight to Martya. He gripped her arms and pinned her with his eyes.

“How could you?” The pain in his voice slashed at her and she shook her head. “You. How could _you_ do this?”

“No – I didn’t.” Her eyes wide, her voice shaking. “Ivan, please I didn’t do anything –“

 “Don’t look away from me. Then say it. Say it’s not him! Say you’re not in love with him. Say it.”

It was a second but it may as well have been an hour. Martya glanced at Borgos and it was only then that Martya herself realised the truth. For Ivan it was enough. It was too much.  He staggered back because Mark, in fear for Martya, had knocked him out with a stunner.


	5. Nothing To See (Alys’s Decision|Dono Has Something To Say)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay in posting these, real life decided to pay me a sharp visit and then I changed my mind and rewrote the chapter etc etc.

 

Alys had no choice.  She couldn’t watch her son 26 hours a day.  Each day she was becoming more and more uneasy with her son’s behaviour.  It was as if he was hidden behind an unbreakable film of glass. He hadn’t neglected his work or his wedding duties, if anything he was doing more than he’d been asked to do. She wasn’t complaining but neither was Ivan. Ivan always did his duty but he did like to complain or joke about it. That Ivan was gone. The ready laugh and quick grin that had slowly muted over the months had all but disappeared. Now there was an ever present blank look in his eyes she couldn’t shatter.

Alys wanted her son back.  

It’s not as if she’d previously neglected him but she’d made a point of not interfering in his married life and now the son she knew had been eroded by inches. She wasn’t going to let that continue. Perhaps it was her motherly instinct overloading her but she’d be a fool not to listen to it.

Simon was uneasy when he heard Alys’s solution. “I may have forgotten many things but I’ve not forgotten what we agreed with him and Miles about their privacy. They have precious little of it. Can’t you trust Ivan to deal with this in his own way?”

“He is not dealing with it,” Alys retorted. “He keeps telling everyone he’s dealing with it but he’s not. She’s betrayed and humiliated him and all he’s done is change the locks.”

_Are you going to get a divorce, Ivan?_

_I’m dealing with it._

_Martya wants to get her things, Ivan._

_I’m dealing with it._

_Are you going to talk to her?_

_Soon. I’m dealing with it._

 

And although many people asked or made remarks about the contradictory rumours going around he wouldn’t react with any emotion. He would fix people with a look that made them so uncomfortable people started to avoid him.

When Kou had cornered him and demanded: “We need to sort this out. I don’t believe this is her fault. Not my Martya. What did you do to her?”

Ivan simply replied: “I married her, sir. Excuse me.”

To the sisters, “This is between me and your sister. I have nothing to say to you.”

Olivia had, much to the fury of her siblings, kissed Ivan’s cheek and said, “I’m not getting involved.”

Only to Drou had he listened and waited. Drou had pulled him aside into the ImpRes library and told him she wouldn’t interfere but she felt she had to say her piece. She had to assure him that Martya had not had an affair but that she could see from his point of view how it could have looked when she saw her daughter with that scientist. Martya would never betray him like that and Martya was very upset that Ivan would think that. Martya only wanted to talk to him and explain. And Ivan had asked calmly, “She’s not in love with him?”

Drou looked so upset that she unable to deny it that Ivan was moved to take her hand and perhaps Drou may have been able to get something more out of Ivan but as soon as she said, “Martya said you were both unhappy –“ and then she stopped as something flashed across Ivan’s face.

Ivan released Drou’s hand and bowed. “I have to go and I have nothing more to say.”

She had gripped his hand. “Ivan, love. You know how much you mean to me. You’re like my own but Martya’s my daughter and –“

“I understand. I don’t blame you for what she is.”

Drou was so stunned by the ice in Ivan’s voice that it took her a long time before she could leave the library and face the rest of the guests.

Alys had asked Aral and Cordelia to speak to him and after deftly avoiding them for as long as he could he told them: “Ask Mark what he saw. I have nothing more to say. Isn’t it my business?”

And neither of them wanted to force the issue since Ivan wanted nothing to do with either of them. Everyone was worried but no one was sure just what was going on. And since Martya had admitted she loved another no one wanted to press Ivan. Didn’t he deserve to be left alone?

Miles put down Ivan’s behaviour to two things. First, no one had been watching Ivan when he’d recovered from the stunner fire. Mark had had Ivan hauled up to one the sofas upstairs but Ivan had awoken alone and left Vorkosigan House unnoticed by his family. He’d returned after a long drive with an apology for not answering anyone’s anxious calls but with the reassurance he was okay. “Whatever he decided on that drive is how he’s dealing with it. Perhaps he is.” But then there was the second thing which had always driven Miles up the wall: “Ivan always likes to pretend things will eventually sort themselves out, and if that helps him not go off the deep end this time, maybe we should leave him be.”

For Ivan it helped that everyone was preoccupied. Ivan relied on it so he could deal with this his own way.  But he’d misjudged his mother.

Alys may have had a million and one duties, and the need for a daily reprioritisation of tasks to keep on top of it all but she was determined that Ivan was going to be at the top of that list.  The problem was the times when she couldn’t keep an eye on him – it had nagged at her more and more until she felt she had no choice.

And that's when she made her decision.

 

***

Olivia entered her home with Lord Dono and listened with a heavy sigh to the same conversation coming from the dining room. She was about to leave the house again, but Dono stopped her with a hand on her arm.

“There isn’t anything else we can do, Delia,” Drou said.

“He won’t let her get her things, Mama. He’s making no effort to resolve this! He has no right. Martya has tried to talk to him and he won’t listen.”

“I don’t know what else I can do,” Martya said in a weary tone, “He has no right to keep punishing me like this. I’ve not done anything wrong, if he lets me talk to him he would see that.”

“See, Mama,” Delia said, “Martya wants to resolve this.”

“I haven’t done anything wrong,” Martya repeated.

“I told you. That’s all Martya keeps saying,” Olivia said dropping her voice. “I don’t think she can face it. She keeps crying too, it's not like her at all. Let’s go.”

Dono shook his head and opened the front door and closed it with a slam, “I can help,” he whispered, “will you allow me? You may not thank me after.”

Olivia and Dono walked into the room to face silence. Dono politely apologised for interrupting but it was getting late and Olivia had been so helpful he insisted on accompanying her home.  He told Martya how much he missed seeing her at the various events but then went on about how people were gossiping…and then he paused and elaborated on how people were gossiping about the Vorbrettons and his own case.  

Drou went to make the tea and Delia followed her into the kitchen. Delia had been waiting for Olivia to come home soon so she could leave Martya and Mama with her but now Dono was here there was no chance she could leave. Delia pulled out the tea set they used for guests and sighed. So much for her evening plans.  She’d been so looking forward to spending a few hours in a long, hot bath… with Duv in it. She imagined it and released another long sigh.  Drou kissed her cheek. “I know, but it will get better.”

“What? Oh, yes…Martya.” Delia felt a flash of guilt and concentrated on making tea.

Dono made himself comfortable and relayed some amusing anecdotes on his new body. Martya relaxed and began to talk a little like her old self. Dono leaned forward and took Martya’s hand.

“It’s not easy is it? I’m sorry about your marriage, Martya.”

Martya gave him a watery smile and squeezed his hand back. “Thank you, Dono.”

“Do you think you’ll reconcile with Ivan?”

“He won’t speak to me. I’ve never known him to be so stubborn.”

“I have,” Dono murmured. 

“I didn’t do anything wrong, Dono,” Martya said, “everyone is saying I had an affair but I didn’t.”

“People should mind their own business,” Dono said.

“Yes, they should.”

“I’m sure things will work out and people will realise how little it all meant. Especially now that that Dr Borgos has left Barrayar.”

“No.” Martya stood. “What do you mean? What do you mean - left? Kareen never said – no, he wouldn’t. Not without seeing me. He wouldn’t! Delia, did you know this?”

“What?” Delia asked placing the tea tray on the table.

“Enrique. Dono said he’s left Barrayar. He shouldn’t have had to leave because of this. He didn’t do anything to deserve that! I have to talk to Kareen, I-“

“I lied,” Dono said, examining Martya thoughtfully, “I wanted to see it for myself. How much you want him.”

Oliva squeezed Delia’s arm and shook her head so Delia closed her mouth and watched as Martya flushed and let out a gasp as she faced Dono.  “How _dare_ you! And it doesn’t mean. I mean - I didn’t have an affair! I –“

“Just spent all your time with Borgos because you preferred his company to Ivan’s?”

“Yes – no! But that doesn’t mean –”

“Are you saying you didn’t give Borgos all your affection? All your friendship? All your love? That you didn’t leave anything but crumbs for your husband?” Dono walked over and grabbed Martya’s chin and forced her to look him in the eye.  “You fool,” he said it softly but Martya flinched as if slapped. “You may not have had sex with him but what you have done is far worse. Face it or you will make yourself ill and make everyone else suffer for it.”

“This isn’t all my fault. Ivan’s lying if he said – if he said we were happy before Enrique came here. We weren’t so – ”

“Perhaps not,” Dono said, “but Ivan never sought comfort from someone else.  You did.  Have you thought about that, Martya? How you drained your marriage of joy because you gave it to someone else?  Have you thought about the pain and misery you’ve caused Ivan and your family because you’re too cowardly to face your own mistakes?”

Martya dropped down on the sofa with her face in her hands.

Dono turned to face not only Drou, Delia and Olivia but Kou had arrived and heard it all. He stared at his daughter as Dono smoothly apologised about having to take his leave but he’d just recalled something urgent.

“I’ll see you out,” Olivia rasped.

At the door Olivia could only nod and Dono wiped the tears from her cheek.

“Don’t worry. Martya’s young.” Dono sighed. “And this will age her if she learns the right lessons.  But she’s not malicious and that’s the only reason I was easy on her.” He kissed Olivia’s hand. “I know you must support your family but I’m asking you, try and be a friend to Ivan if he lets you. He won't speak to me.”

“I have tried to do that anyway. He seems to be handling this better than Martya.”

“Let’s hope so.”

Olivia let out a hearty sigh. “Do you know that when I warned her about marrying Ivan I did it just to make her think.  I really thought that when she went ahead with it that they both must be _so sure_ and that it would work out. I didn’t want to be right about my doubts.”

Dono gave her an odd smile. “You’re quite genuinely sweet do you know that, Olivia?”

Olivia beamed and when she heard the door behind her she cleared her throat.

“Well…goodnight, Dono.” She kissed his cheek and enjoyed the soft scratch of Dono’s beard and the way that touch made her pulse quicken and her skin flush. “Tomorrow?” Oliva asked. “I mean I can help you tomorrow.”

Dono’s eyes smouldered. “I’d be honoured.”


	6. Eyes on the Vor (A Vor In His Own Habitat)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've come across Eve before in my other fics please note that this is the same character but this is a different timeline. Because I love playing with fate with all characters, OC or canon, in this its an AU for her. All you need to know is that this Eve has never met Ivan or his circle before. God I hope that makes sense.

“So Captain Vorpatril’s not done anything wrong?”

“No.”

“He’s not a suspect, he’s an innocent?”

“Yes.”

“It’s a funny thing but when you first hired me you warned me – warned all us girls – against doing what you’re asking me to do now. I’m just reminding you in case it’s one of those things you’ve forgotten. In fact, using our skills for personal reasons like this is what you said would have us fired, incarcerated and the entire program cancelled. Everything had to be mission related. You went on and on about it. It meant a lot to us that you did.”

“These are exceptional circumstances.”

“Because his mother’s paranoid and can’t cut her apron strings?”

“No. Because for the first time in his life Captain Vorpatril has been betrayed by someone he trusted. I want you to fully understand that in the context of his family and the Imperium.  Lady Vorpatril is not just his wife but someone whose trust and friendship he has never questioned his entire life. You know the position he has, the history of their families and you know what it could cost him to be betrayed.”

“He’s never had his trust broken? Never? Lucky bastard.”

“He’s been careful to bestow his trust sparingly; the kind of trust that matters. I’m not saying he’s never made mistakes with people but you understand the difference.”

“Yeah. I do. So let me guess, now that his trust, ego and pride have taken a battering he’s losing his marbles?”

“No. He appears to be handling it but it’s hard to tell; there’s concern he’s not made any decisions.  This surveillance is only a precaution.”

“That maybe but it’s a violation. I don’t do work like this. I never wanted to do work like this.”

“That’s why you’re perfect for the job. It means something to you to protect and respect his privacy as much as you can. Others wouldn’t and too many people are connected to him. I have kept an eye on you – I know you’re not connected to him.”

“Only because you got lucky. I’m still friends with Laisa Toscane and she’s been nagging me death to meet her new friends ever since I returned to Barrayar. If I had, I would have met him by now. Met that entire circle.”

“I would still trust you to do this.”

“And I wouldn’t do it if I knew him personally…I’m not stupid; you’re using my crazy past to get me to do this.”

“I trust you _because_ of your past and everything you’ve done since or I wouldn’t have asked you.”

“And you know I can’t say no to you.”

“Didn’t I always give you a choice?”

“Yeah, you’ve always been sneaky like that.”

***

A few days ago Eve was part of a team putting down another potential riot in Little Komarr and confiscating a shit load of dosed vibra-knives. She’d been stuck in an airless basement for days, faced with nothing but mutilated pictures of Laisa Toscane and the emperor before the potential rioters showed up for their meeting. And then it had all kicked off. But it was all over now. The only damage to herself had been another scar – a thigh slash this time but only a graze.  The mission was a success but damn it - what was _wrong_ with these people? Eve wasn’t too thrilled about the royal marriage either but she wasn’t going to start a butchering riot over it.  

But that was last week. Now? Well now she was watching Captain Lord Ivan Vorpatril walk naked around his kitchen, towel drying his hair.

“You’re not going to distract me today,” Eve sang to herself. She turned away from the apartment rooms’ display on her comconsole. “I’ve got better things to do than look at that fine, fine body of yours. Do you think this paper for my Prof is going to write itself?” Her eye drew back to him and she shook her head. “How can you not be cold? But no…I can tell you’re not cold. And more coffee? You had two cups already! Aren’t you worried about spilling it on your – thank you.” Vorpatril had walked back into his bedroom and began to dress. She tried not to watch him dress and undress but it turns out she wasn’t a saint.

When he left the apartment, the door automatically opened but didn’t swing shut. He frowned, swiped the panel again and swore and so did Eve.  As he manually forced the door shut, Eve checked her own tech wasn’t interfering and found it wasn’t. It was just one of those things. Well if anyone came to fix it they wouldn’t find anything of hers. She was sure about that.

While he was out Eve slept for a few hours, as a few hours was all her body could manage, and she did a two hour workout. After that she showered, restored her disguise (because you never knew when you had to jet) and tackled her paper on the use of the sewers during the Cetagandan occupation. She took advantage of Vorpatril’s daily absence (since she was only assigned to his apartment) by catching up on her other important work: her degree on Barrayaran History and Literature which she’d been precariously balancing with her ImpSec duties.

Although nothing much had happened, in the last few days there had been a flurry of anxious calls and messages because Vorpatril had taken a delivery from Estelle’s, and he wasn’t giving any indication on when or how he would give this to his wife. It was the only time she’d seen him go into the room that always stayed shut. He’d thrown all the items into the room and he was breathing heavily when he’d slammed the door.  It wasn’t the weight of the packages that had caused that reaction. Eve had had a clear view of the raw flashes of pain and anger that had swallowed his features; it may have been temporary, and the captain may have carried on ignoring that room, but Eve had seen enough.

_You can’t keep it locked forever, Captain._

It was the only time he hadn’t looked so strained. The denial – because that’s how she saw it - had been temporarily ripped away. Eve had never seen anyone more in need of a hot tussle (except maybe General Allegre.) She couldn’t see any signs that the strain was a major problem but Vorpatril looked badly in need of that release valve.  She was sure that would help with his headaches; he took a lot of painkillers – he was careful with them but every night he had broken sleep and in the last few days he’d hardly slept at all.

Eve had a list of who to call if anything happened to him and she was initially surprised to see Auditor Lord Vorkosigan on there since he hadn’t visited once and the last call involved them pissing each other off.  Vorpatril had forced Lord Vorkosigan to deny he’d known what was going on ‘under his own roof’ and Lord Vorkosigan – who looked terrible she had to say – said he didn’t believe anything had happened between Lady Vorpatril and Borgos at Vorkosigan House but if Vorpatril believed it: _You should talk to Martya about it. What the hell is it you want, Ivan? You’re not doing a damn thing about this._

Eve had felt like yelling: ‘He wants to know he has your support! No matter what he decides. Idiot.’

Vorpatril had said, in that strained manner, that he had to go and he may see him tonight. But to give him his due, Lord Vorkosigan had called later and left a message which Eve recognised was a Barrayaran male version of an apology and support without saying the actual words.

The main caller was his mother. She called him every two days. He answered the calls but afterwards he would sit with his eyes closed and she imagined him muttering. He never talked to himself which Eve thought was the most abnormal thing about him. That and his addiction to coffee.  Yeuch.

When Captain Galeni visited, Eve thought that it may have been to plea on behalf of his future sister in law about her stuff but he never mentioned the Estelle’s delivery or Lady Vorpatril. He’d brought some beer and a vid so Eve ended up watching a comedy vid with the captains. Not that they knew she was watching it with them of course but it was a good vid and she’d recommend it. (Called _Road Trip Across Barrayar_ – Adult rating.) Neither of them talked during the vid which put them high up in her estimation. 

Eve was relieved the conversation had been minimal as she’d met Galeni once last year through Laisa and wasn’t at all keen on inadvertently spying on him. If it was a legitimate job she wouldn’t have cared but this was not her usual kind of work.  Even though her clearance had been raised for this it would only take one miscommunication for her to be dragged out into ImpSec’s bowels especially as this job had no paperwork and she doubted many people knew about it. And although she thought about stopping she found herself worrying about Vorpatril no matter how hard she tried to step back.

She wanted to dislike him so much. God it would make things _so much_ easier! She thought when the concierge called to apologise about the faulty door that she would get the ammunition she needed. The concierge reassured him that the door was still secure but that it would be at least a week before the part would arrive to fix the automation. Apparently it was a common fault with many of the doors that had only just been discovered.  The concierge assured Vorpatril that he would give him priority when the parts arrived and Vorpatril had shaken his head.

“That’s not necessary, Pascal. Just add me to the list and let me know if there’s any delay.”

Pascal looked relieved, thanked Vorpatril so many times that Eve guessed the other tenants had given him a much harder time.

“You see,” Eve said to the vid as she watched Vorpatril check his other messages, “couldn’t you have acted like a snooty arrogant Vor and told Pascal that you’d have him fired if he didn’t get it sorted out _right this minute_? Why do you have to be so damn reasonable! Oh but you know because of that that he’ll probably put you to top of the list anyway. How am I supposed to hate you if you keep being so sensible and nice? You’re High Vor for God’s sake! What’s wrong with you?”

Of course he didn’t answer.  And after two weeks Eve had yet to see anything that would indicate he was heading towards any kind of trouble.  She’d seen him do things he wouldn’t do if anyone was watching but those weren’t worrying. Those aspects of his life were private and were another reminder that she was violating his sanctuary.

And then it happened.

It was around five in the morning and Eve was replying to Laisa’s very sarcastic ‘if you have time to come to my wedding’ message; Eve sent Laisa a compilation of songs from when they first met on Earth – a mixture of Eve’s own renditions of Komarran songs and some songs that were popular at the time. _After my work craziness is over, I hope to make it up to you and be a better friend but yes, barring death or other natural disasters I will be at your wedding._ It was fortunate that Laisa now knew about her double life but it didn’t make it easier as she still had to lie.  Just as she sent the message the light went on in Vorpatril’s room and he sat up and got out of bed.  Eve sighed. Expecting him to do the usual: bathroom and then coffee of course (because yeah _that_ will help you sleep!)

But no. He went into the other bedroom, hit the lights and stared at the bed. And then he started talking to it.

“How could you? How could you do that? Him! You were with him all that time! You’re not wearing them! I didn’t pay for these so you could wear these for him! You won’t get a chance to laugh at me wearing these! I believed you! You and your damn space! Give me space, Ivan. Give me basement space! Well you can have all the fucking space you want but you’re not having anything else!”

She watched him, clad in his underwear, go into the kitchen, return with a pair of scissors and a vibra-knife and watched as the clothes were shredded to pieces; including a beautiful pale blue gown with a jewelled bodice which Eve was sure was for the emperor’s wedding; she winced as she watched what had to be an Estelle’s exclusive reduced to rags. Eve tried not to take sides but she did enjoy it for three reasons: she was sure his wife deserved it, it would help him move forward, and then she could leave him alone. And she completely ignored the odd feeling in her stomach when she thought of that.

When he got tired of the clothes he moved on to the shoes. He was more methodical and seemed to gain a lot of pleasure from lopping off the heels off all the shoes. And then he suddenly went over to the sofa and fell asleep, just like that.  Hit the sofa like a stone and was out for eleven hours! His reaction on waking wasn’t what Eve expected at all and that’s when things started to go wrong.


	7. Interlude -  While The Vor Sleeps (Illyan’s Daughter)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eve speaks to Illyan and Laisa about this that and the other.

While Vorpatril slept Eve took a call from Illyan. He was looking quite dapper in his dark blue suit. She was never going to get used to him sans uniform, but he had good taste. Or his girlfriend had good taste. The call didn’t start well.

“His family are concerned,” Illyan said. “That’s why you’re there.”

“And that’s why we had an agreement. I have nothing to tell you. You want to protect his privacy a _nd_ keep him safe? This is how it is.  If I need to call anyone, I have your list.  You have to trust me, sir.  There will be no reports on this in any shape or form. No updates, no vids, no anything.”

 “Vids?” Illyan looked surprised.  “I never said anything regarding vids.”

“It’s all of a piece, isn’t it?  You know what I mean.”

“I do know.” There was a long pause before he spoke again. “This isn’t the same as what happened to you. You cannot confuse the two.”

“I’m not.  I know where I am and who I am. Do you doubt that?” she asked defensively.

“No and that not what I mean, Blue.”

It had been a while since he’d used one of her code names; she missed it.

“I know, I know,” she said apologetically. “If you thought that, I wouldn’t be here, but it isn’t confusion – it’s the similarities.” She clasped her hands together in her lap. “What happened to me on Beta Colony was an invasion of my entire self and it was _all recorded_.  It’s still out there. I have no control over who sees it. I want all the copies destroyed but the Betans say its evidence. Like seven dead girls aren’t evidence enough. They report on it, they discuss it, they pick me over – I know it.” She looked at Vorpatril and back to Illyan. “If he ever finds out that he had eyes on him in his apartment, you can at least tell him that no one but me saw anything.  And no one else will know anything unless _I_ have something to tell.”

“Understood.”

She tilted her head. “You know this anyway don’t you.”

“It’s why you’re there watching him,” he said simply.  “But I am sorry that it reminds you of what happened.”

“It doesn’t remind me, sir. It’s always there.” She gave a slight shrug. “It will never let me go.”

It didn’t matter that it had happened over eleven years ago.  She’d been twelve years old when she went to that residential clinic (closed now), on Beta Colony, known for its work with children and adolescents. The course was supposed to contain minimal chemical therapeutics and mainly cognitive counselling to help the girls gain confidence and improve overall wellbeing and self-esteem.  But the therapist had a breakdown – a breakdown that lead to her administering a chemical cocktail of truth serums and hallucinogens. The therapist killed her assistant and took vids and made reports (to herself) of the children as their minds and bodies disintegrated. Out of the ten girls Eve was one of only three who had survived.

“What happens if you have to use something from your arsenal?” Illyan asked jolting her thoughts.

“Then I’ll use it,” she said firmly. “I’m here to keep him safe and that’s what I’ll do. I know the difference between what I use and what was used on me. And also it helps that I’m not nuts.”

Illyan barked a laugh. “No you’re not.”

“No thanks to the Betans …but it’s got me thinking.  I mean if I _wasn’t_ one of the Betan Ten kids I wouldn’t have fell apart like I had; that rogue agent then wouldn’t have been able to groom me and you would never have hired me. So if that hadn’t happened would I still be here? Watching Lord Vorpatril? Would I even know you?”

“Obsessing about fate doesn’t do anyone any good.”

“I know but don’t you ever think about it? Where you would be if you’d taken a different turn; if someone else did and…and if you still had your memories?” _And you were back at ImpSec where you belong._

Illyan’s smile was tight. “I don’t play that game and I would advise you to stop. Not that you ever will.”

She laughed.  “You remember that?”

“That you believe all your decisions have futures that are played out? Oh yes.”

Eve shrugged. “I know you think it’s nonsense but it cheers me to thinks of all those different lives.” She turned to Vorpatril still sleeping. “I bet it’s crossed _his_ mind. If he’d not married her where would he be now?…You’re not coming back are you?” she asked abruptly.

They stared at each other for a while and Eve realised it had taken until now for her to fully face it.

Illyan shook his head. “No. And you need to accept that.”

“It’s not easy...When we were hired the program was called ‘Illyan’s Daughters’ and it still is.”

Illyan smiled. “Only because I created it.”

Eve frowned. “That bastard Stafford calls us _Damaged_ Daughters; did you know that?”

“Yes.  Many people expected you all to fail because of your…unique backgrounds.”

“And you knew telling us that would make us want to prove them wrong.  Stafford’s doing the review with Allegre,” she said feeling the need to rinse her mouth out whenever she said Stafford’s name.

 “He was there from the beginning too. You know it makes sense that Allegre speaks to him.”

“Stafford is an arsehole,” Eve muttered.

Illyan sighed. “Yes he is, but he will be a fair one. If you don’t trust him, trust Allegre. Blue, listen to me.” And she looked him in the eye, recognising that tone and keeping her mouth shut. “Allegre hasn’t stalled any of your missions. That should tell you enough how he values your work. Trust him.”

“Why? We’ll always be at risk no matter how good we are, sir. I know that because it’s been three years for all four of us and it’s still considered a ‘program’. There’s no permanency in it.”

“Trust Allegre,” Illyan stated again.

She threw her hands up.  “Fine.  I’ll try…You know, you never did tell me whether there were more than four of us working for you.”

Illyan smiled. “No, I never did, did I? Goodbye, Eve.”

“Bye.”

Eve stared at Vorpatril “I don’t envy you having him as a stepfather. He’s still a crafty bugger but I owe him.”

Yeah, she owed Illyan a lot. And that wasn’t going to change no matter if he wasn’t heading the program.  She knew that his program hadn’t sat well with many people and that he’d taken risks. She owed him for that too. It’s not that ImpSec had never used women – Illyan said they always had but from particular Vor families and he’d refused to elaborate further on that.  (Eve had never worked with any of them.) The Daughters tag was because these Vor women were referred to originally as the ‘Daughters of ImpSec’ and then just ‘The Daughters’.  It made Eve laugh because none of ‘Illyan’s Daughters’ were Vors; in fact she was sure that, apart from herself, they were all wanted criminals.

“When are you going to wake up?” she asked Vorpatril. “Distract me.”

This was the boring part of her job. Where there was nothing to watch out for as Vorpatril wasn’t doing anything but lightly snoring and every time he shifted his underwear would move (and God damn it she was only human and she couldn’t cut the visual could she?) But even that wasn’t enough to distract her.  She’d started to think about fate and choices and yes, okay, it never did her any good to dwell on it. If she hadn’t begged her father to take her to Beta Colony to attend that course _. Gah! You were twelve! Get over it!_ But then that reminded her of how far away her father was.

In desperation she called Laisa and was surprised when Laisa herself answered. It was cheering to see her friend look so, well _, normal,_ in her bright blouse that matched her turquoise eyes 

“Eve?” Laisa asked brightly. “There’s no visual.”

“Yeah I know. Are you free? And don’t you have an assistant to answer your calls now?”

“Some I manage to answer myself,” she said with a hint of annoyance. “Don’t go anywhere. Just give me one minute so I can make sure we have some privacy.”

Eve was already running checks and was impressed at how secure Laisa’s line was.  She was sure she could inflict some damage given some time but if they were using the tech she was using it would take a while which meant more of a chance of getting caught. Eve approved.

“Why can’t I see you?” Laisa asked.

Eve ran her fingers through her black wig and bit her lip. “Because I’m literally not myself. Today’s not the day to explain.” Eve sighed.  “You’re a wonder, L. I’ve been a crappy friend to you since I came back and here you are taking my call.”

“I have a hidden agenda. I miss you.  You sound blue.”

“I’m just thinking too much. And you know; I suddenly miss Earth; miss my da.”

Laisa smiled. “I love the way you call your father ‘Da’ it’s cute.  But I feel bad that you have no one here.”

“What are you talking about?  I have you, the friend I’ve been alienating for the past year. How am I doing with that?”

Laisa laughed. “You’re not very good at it.  You shouldn’t have sent me those songs. They made me remember what a wonderful time we had at the embassy on Earth and at your father’s club.” Laisa’s eyes widened suddenly. “Oh. I just thought-“

Eve chuckled. “Don’t worry, all that evidence was destroyed. No one is going to see the way you celebrated your trade tariff thingy successes. And don’t try and explain those to me again. You know how I feel about numbers.”

Laisa’s eyes lit. “They didn’t know what hit them.”

“Yes, I could tell by the way you made that Escobaran aide cry when you tore apart his figures, in that bright, bouncy way.”

“I do not bounce!”

“Tell your breasts that.”

And just like that it felt so normal for a while, talking with Laisa and they mused about how strange it all was that from their meeting on Earth and becoming friends, they’d both ended up on Barrayar.  Eve was one of many who often sang at the cultural events or dinners at the Barrayaran Embassy and Laisa had been surprised to hear Eve sing songs from Komarr.  She’s sought Eve out and they clicked.  Laisa said it was fate that their paths crossed again and Eve suspected it was true. After all, Eve wanted a low profile and Laisa falling for the emperor was just one of those cruel jokes that the universe liked to throw at her to make her life even more interesting. Fate – also a crafty bugger.

“I have to ask this,” Laisa said taking a breath. “It’s not because of the Betan Ten thing is it, Eve? That you’ve not attended anything.  Because I don’t care what people think about that. I hope you’re not trying to protect me.”

“No, it’s not that.  Missing your betrothal and all your wedding hoopla has honestly been because of having to go back home and work, but you have to face it - when people find out we’re friends they’re not going to be kind to you about it; even without the Betan Ten aspect you know what my background is.”

Laisa’s eyes were steel. “They can say what they like.” She nodded firmly. “I do know what’s going on, Eve, and I know this marriage isn’t popular with a strong minority as it is.  I’ve told Gregor I don’t want to be shielded from it. I have to know what people are saying about me.”

“Of course, how else are you going to arm yourself?”

Laisa nodded slowly. “Yes, you would understand that.  Alright, I suppose I have to face it that the first time you meet my betrothed will be on my wedding day.”

“I have seen him before, L. It was in a parade, he waved. I was sure he was looking right at me.” She dropped a hearty sigh. “I nearly fainted with joy.”

“I’ll tell him you said so.”

Eve burst out a laugh and Laisa grinned. “So are you going to bring anyone with you? Any ‘loyal knight and true?’ ***** ”

“Oh, L, love, you do know you’re quoting from a poem where she ends up dead in the end?”

“I know but it’s _so romantic.”_

“Romantic that Lancelot is her curse? Lancelot, who is screwing his best friend’s wife.”

“That’s not true! Not all the legends say that – about the screwing I mean, not the curse.”

“I think you have to question the sanity of a woman who falls for someone like Lancelot and especially just from watching him through…watching…”

“Yes?”

Eve tore her eyes away from Vorpatril’s prone form, her heart in her stomach. “What?”

“I think I lost the audio for a moment, Eve.”

“Yeah, sorry, I mean no you didn’t. What were we talking about?”

“The Lady of Shalott.”

Eve steadied her heart beat. God, what had happened?  “Ah yes. The Lady of Shalott, which _you_ made me sing to your Galeni and his girlfriend ******. I think you still owe me for that.”

Laisa’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh God, I forgot about that.”

“Yeah, and what a palaver that was, you telling me they would be at the Botanical Gardens and they went to the miniature golf course. One of these days that romantic match making nature of yours is going to get someone into trouble. You’re lucky I had the tech to trace their movements so I could still sing that damn poem so they could hear it.”

“Ah that’s how you did it.  But it worked! That song brought them together.”

“You told me it almost backfired!”

“Almost, but it didn’t. You’re a fine singer.”

“Thank you and don’t think buttering me up is going to make me promise to do anything like that again. I should never have promised in the first place.”

 Laisa laughed. “Alright but I do genuinely miss it that you’re not singing at my wedding but,” she said holding up he hands, “I’m not going to push you.  No promises about that but I want a promise though, something that can make up for you neglecting me.”

“I’ve promised to attend your wedding and I’ll be there.”

“ _And_ you’ll promise to attend five events – big or small – of my choosing post-wedding. And because it’s you I’m sticking a time limit on it – within six months.”

Eve was about to protest but Laisa had that determined crease in her brow. “One year?” Eve suggested.

Laisa smiled. “All within one year it is.”

Eve frowned. “You agreed to that quickly.”

“It means I can spread them out and you can finally meet all these new friends I’ve met, at a leisurely pace.”

Vorpatril suddenly stirred and sat up.

“Laisa –“

“No backing out now. You promised.”

Vorpatril fell off the sofa with a grunt.

“Sorry, Laisa I have to go.”

“Yes me too. Speak soon? I wish we had more time.”

“Yeah but you’ve been a wonderful tonic, future empress. Thanks. I’m proud to know you, and I’ll be proud to serve you,” she added with a weight to her voice.

Laisa sniffed. “Don’t make me cry, Eve.”

“Think about percentages, tariffs and that horse story that always makes you smile.”

“He bought me a horse,” she said her face beaming.

Eve laughed, blew her a kiss and cut the com.

 Eve watched Vorpatril slowly struggle off the floor and stand very still, he pulled his underwear up and tugged at his hair.

“You’re alright now, right?” Eve asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * [Tennyson's Lady of Shalott](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k0rVNQw1DQM)
> 
>  
> 
> **This singing to Duvelia episode is mentioned in [Sugared Almonds](http://archiveofourown.org/works/987497/chapters/1947363) but is not required reading.


	8. The Vor Make A Decision (Eve Makes That Call)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning - swearing ahead

“She’s a Koudelka!” Vorpatril cried suddenly to the entire apartment. “A Koudelka. A _Koudelka_.”

_Oh shit. Guess it’s a slow breakdown._

Eve figured – hoped –  that Vorpatril would either wake refreshed and ready to move forward or (the least likely scenario to her) he would close the door on the wreck he’d created and revert back to his denial state. Neither of which was happening.

“Doesn’t make any sense,” he said pulling at his hair, “damned crazy dream. God damn it, backstabbing, crawling with damned bugs…”

He stared down at his body, opened his underwear slowly, looked relieved at what he saw and then stalked into the kitchen, took some painkillers, washed them down with beer and chased that with some odd clear liquid from an unlabelled bottle – he didn’t drink much of it but his breath caught, he staggered, “S’good,” he rasped and drank some more and then grabbed another beer. He sat down heavily on a chair and began to mutter to himself as he drank, his gaze fixed on the kitchen counter. He was shaking his head and muttering a lot about backstabbers and bugs.

Eve bit her lip. “Okay. Fine. As long as you’re not going to operate any heavy machinery that –”

He rose suddenly, grabbed a plate off the counter, smashed it to the floor and followed that with emptying his kitchen cupboards the same way; punctuating the smashing of many items of crockery with:  “And she touched this one, and this one and this one…”

What had done it? Perhaps it was his dreams, but the lid was fully blown off now and the words were flooding out. _This_ is what you get for wishing he’d talk to himself, Eve scolded herself.  It was painful listening; all that raw emotion and mostly incoherent ramblings burning the air: “He won’t see you wear it - you’re not getting your mug back - I believed you - I believed you - every day after day after day after – bugs - damn bugs -  Idiot!  Idiot! Idiot! Top of her list? Top of her fucking list! Idiot! Idiot! I need a piss…”

At least he went to the loo to relieve himself although he missed the toilet by about a mile. Eve wrinkled her nose. _Glad I don’t have to clean that up._

He returned to the kitchen, changed his mind and went straight into the bedroom where he began slicing the rest of her clothing in a kind of frenzy. There was a moment when he froze with a serene look on his face and said:

“I’ll get him when he least expects it. Him and the clone…Won’t get me a third time.”

Eve had no idea what that was about but she eyed that vibra-knife warily as he waved it about, and dropped it at random intervals.  He’d get a look and dart off to destroy something else.  Like the long stemmed vase he tried to flush down the loo. When that didn’t work he peed on it. He was humming now in between the mutterings. It made her very uneasy.

“Do the job, Eve.” And the job was to keep him safe without his knowledge.  He needs to get this out of his system, Eve decided, and refused to call in his family. He deserved this venting without any judgement or anyone watching…or anyone taking advantage. No one’s recording this. When this is done it’s done. He’ll be fine. God damn it, he will be fine _.  I will give him as much dignity and privacy as I can._

But while he was sitting on the floor taking more shoes apart, but in a less frenzied manner, Eve ran a few scenarios in her head and she opted to change location. She did her checks, disabled the perimeter security and was out the window and propelling down to his balcony. She watched him with her portable console as she crouched in the corner, but she unlocked the balcony doors for swift entry should she need it.   Nothing to do now but wait for him to pass out (she hoped) or for him to call someone but she was doubtful that would happen.  Maybe someone would drop by; it was the weekend after all.

_God, I hope his mother doesn’t show up._

No matter if Lady Alys could handle it; Eve doubted Vorpatril would want her to see him in this state. Eve recalled Vorpatril’s face after every well-meaning call from his mother and frowned. But Lady Alys had been placed top of her call list. She’d agreed with Illyan to call her first if she had to call anyone.

Vorpatril suddenly got that ‘I have a bright idea’ look on his face again. She liked the way it relaxed his face and that boyish smile that appeared when it wasn’t strained. But right now it wasn’t comforting.  _What are you going to try and flush now?_ But all he did was pile his wife’s things on the bed. It wasn’t everything; he was selective but he emptied an entire drawer of mostly white and light blue underwear on the bed and stared at them, his flushed face suddenly paling.

“Bet he saw these,” Vorpatril said, “I never saw these. Bet you wore them for him in your basement. Stayed all those nights,” the last word broke his voice and he breathed sharply.  He swore and then nodded. “Whoosh!” he said with a bitter tang Eve could taste in her own mouth. “They need to go whoosh.” Eve felt the hairs under her wig stand on end.

He piled up more shredded clothes on top of the underwear, some shoes and broken crockery.

_Whoosh? What’s whoosh? Water? Is he going to drown them? Pee on them? What?_

He was humming again and went into his bedroom and pulled out a brazier and tripod from the bottom of one of his wardrobes.  When he took it to the bed, he frowned and Eve’s heart stopped. The idea of him lighting a fire in that condition – but no. It didn’t matter. There were safety sensors – good ones. She checked them on her console and yes, all active. She breathed a sigh of relief. The whole place would get doused. Nothing to worry about.

Vorpatril sighed.  “Don’t be stupid! These aren’t an offering. ” He pulled a face and returned the tripod and brazier.

_Alright. Good. Good. Now for God’s sake pass out again. Give me a chance to think, Vorpatril._

Eve had never spent this long on surveillance without eventually knocking people out, blowing something up or stealing something. Watching innocent people fall apart just wasn’t in her remit. Vorpatril returned to the bedroom and sat staring at the bed again; staring at that mound of clothes and crockery. “Whoosh,” he whispered.

_Oh-oh_

And he looked up at the sensors.

Eve shook her head. _No, no, no. Don’t you dare._ _Don’t you fucking dare._

She didn’t know how the hell he did it, not in that state, but he quickly and deftly disabled the safety sensors in the room. They blinked off on her viewer one by one and no back-up kicked in.

Eve swore under her breath. _Does nothing work in your fucking apartment??_

He closed the bedroom door. Sealed it shut. Sealed himself in the room he was about to set on fire. “Not an idiot,” he said, “don’t want to burn the rest of the apartment.”

That was it.  Eve was in the apartment in seconds, concealing herself and activating his front door chime over and over and willing him to answer it.

_Answer the fucking door. Answer the fucking door._

She watched him on her console as the adrenaline bounced her heart in her ears. She instinctively steadied her pulse and watched as he stood stock still for a while and then he sighed. “I’m busy! Got things to burn…Alright! I’m coming!”

He opened the bedroom door and staggered as he made his way to answer the door, but Eve waited, taking into account the debris on the floor she didn’t want him to fall on. He’d opened the front door a split second before Eve could take her shot. He touched his shoulder but he couldn’t reach where she’d shot him with her dart which was already disintegrating.

Now _this_ was more like her usual work but she felt a wave of nausea. _I’m doing this for his own good._

Vorpatril slurred to the emptied hallway, “Where’d they go? Don’t you know I’m busy and…” He staggered backwards, sat heavily on the floor and fell back. Eve waited, counted the requisite seconds for the tranq to kick in. Seeing that his eyes were closed she moved further into the apartment and shut the door he’d opened.   _I won’t have strangers see him like this._

And then she tried, God she tried, to leave. But she looked down at him.

_Leave, Eve, just leave._

“How could she?” he murmured; his eyes closed.

There was a risk this tranq would take longer to kick in but it was the only one she trusted to use in his state and as he fell into unconsciousness she crept past him.

“Loves him,” he slurred, “not me.”

His words stabbed at her, caused her to stop and she crouched down.  She hesitated, her hand hovering above his head and she stroked his thick, dark hair. “Hey, hush now. You deserve better than her.  You are better than her.”

“Better…better than bugs.”

_Bugs?_

“Yes, better than bugs. You’re dreaming and when you wake it will all start to get better. Everything’s going to be alright now.”

“Get better?”

“Yes. It’ll get better. Rest now.”

“Rest,” his words were getting heavier, slower. “I can…see you now…you…swim fast.”

Eve wondered what kind of picture he’d put to her voice, as the voice in her head simultaneously shouted at her to leave and to stop being so damn unprofessional. _Leave, leave, leave. Do you know how many rules you’ve broken? Why did you shut the door? Why are you speaking to him? Leave!_

Eve gave a last stroke of his hair. “Shhh. Sweet dreams.”

“Dreaming.”

“Yes.”

“Right oh.” He smiled and passed out. Eve checked the time and darted back to her apartment.

***

She called Lord Vorkosigan. There was no way she was going to call Vorpatril’s mother. Screw it. Her job was to take care of him and she trusted her instincts on this one. When Count Vorkosigan answered, Eve’s first words were:

“You’re not Lord Vorkosigan.”

“Not for many years. But I was in the area. Anything I can help you with? There’s no visual.”

“That’s deliberate.” So was disguising her voice. “I can see your inept security program already trying to trace this but it’s not going to work and it’s not necessary. I’ve sent you my codes so you know I have clearance.” They were the codes Illyan said to use and she trusted they would do the job.  “Is Lord Vorkosigan available? I need to speak to him urgently.”

“He won’t be back for a while. How can I help?”

Eve inwardly swore and she looked at the time. The count was on the list after all.

“I need you to listen to me.  You have to tell your son to pay Vorpatril – Lord Ivan Vorpatril a visit. Please don’t send anyone but your son. He needs his family there, not some officer to find him in the state he’s in.  Lord Vorpatril will wake in no more than 48 minutes. I was hired to keep him safe, sir.  I had to dose him. He’s pissed out of his skull and was about to set fire to his wife’s things in a closed room. He disabled the safety sensors.  Yes, I know how that sounds.  He needs someone there when he wakes because I have no idea what state he will be in when he does.” Would Vorpatril rethink the burning on waking? She doubted it; the tranq wasn’t going to have a sobering effect. 

_I shut the door! What if he remembers he opened it? Oh shit! What was I thinking? No time for this now, Eve. Get a grip!_

She knew the count finally had the data he wanted when his eyes changed.

“Interesting. You’re one of Illyan’s.”

“Always, sir.” Illyan. He was going to be pissed about this.

“There’s no name on here,” Count Vorkosigan said as if they had all the time in the world. “What’s your name?”

“I’m glad to see some things still work at ImpSec but you have to call them off. I know you’ve sent someone to Lord Vorpatril while were talking. Don’t do that to him. He needs family. Friends.”

“How long have you been watching him?”

“You’re wasting time! Look, I don’t know whether you care or not or whether you think he should be over it but he _isn’t_. I’m sure you’ve had more important things to do with your time than give him any thought but can’t you see your way clear to do that right now? Can’t you put yourself in his shoes for five seconds and imagine what it’s like for him? His wife cheated on him! She’s humiliated him, rejected him and he is fucking angry and God knows what else but he’s uncorked all those feelings today and doused them in alcohol and painkillers.  Who knows what condition he’ll be in when he wakes.  Look if you don’t do this, I’m under orders to call his mother and  –“

“No,” his voice was hard but he gave her an odd smile. “There’s no need to call Lady Alys. My son is on his way now. We’ll take care of it.”

“Well…good! It’s about time. And I’ll be watching to make sure you do just that.” Vorpatril’s apartment was less than ten minutes away from Vorkosigan House but who knew how long it would take the Vorkosigans to get their act together.

The count’s eyes changed, sharpened.  “You’re concerned for him.”

Eve swallowed. _Yeah. And it’s going to get me fired_. She closed her eyes. “It’s just a job, sir.”

“Which one are you?”

Eve scowled. “Find out yourself. I don’t have time for this and for God’s sake, upgrade your House security. It’s rubbish. Your House needs a serious review. You now have less than forty five minutes to reach your nephew before he wakes.”

Eve cut the com and put her head in hands for a long while.  She’d put everything in place for a quick and clean exit. No one would know she was here or find any evidence. The only evidence would be what Vorpatril remembered. The only thing for her to do now was to wait for the Vorkosigans to arrive.

She looked up and across at her comconsole and stared at Vorpatril.  Three years of missions. Three years and not one screw up until now. Maybe he wouldn’t remember anything? Maybe he had a bad memory?  Eve pondered on her luck in general and let out a weary laugh as she stared at him.  Undone by a Vor Lord. But no; she couldn’t blame him for this one.

_You’re not my curse, Vorpatril because this is my screw up and I'll fix it._  


	9. Aral’s Ghosts (Ivan has Visitors)

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Cordelia remarked, her smile fading when Aral didn’t reply but sat down on the bed to watch her in silence. Cordelia finished placing the silver comb in her bright hair.  And Aral saw her again – a woman with contrasting colouring and a more obvious beauty to his captain. So long ago but she may as well have been standing in the room.  Face gone by plasma fire. Her two lovers dead by his hand.

“It never lets you go,” he said, resigned now to the memories that were always waiting for their moment. At Cordelia’s raised eyebrow he reached out a hand; she stepped across from the dresser and sat next to him, taking his outstretched hand and Aral clasped it hard.   _At least I have this._

“Three ghosts today,” Aral said with a thoughtful look. “Ivan is not handling this as well as we thought.”

“Oh? Oh...”  She squeezed his hand back and wondered how much Ivan knew about his uncle’s first marriage. Not that Ivan was the type to ask questions or Alys the type to tell him.

“A delayed reaction or facing up to it?” Cordelia shook her head. “Same difference I suppose. I guess Alys was right. She was worried something would happen but she always worries. What else has she said? How is he?”

“She doesn’t know and I want to find out for myself.” At her puzzled look he admitted, “I have this from another source. If Alys calls, discourage her from going to his apartment.”

Cordelia angled her head. “What source?”

“If I tell you anything more you’ll have to lie to Alys.”

“Plausible deniability?”

“That’s the one.”

“What a crock! You just want to handle this yourself. She has a right to know, Aral. And I can’t tell her as she’s not too pleased with me right now.”

Cordelia had voiced to Alys that affairs were a symptom and that Alys would have to face the fact that Ivan may not be completely without blame. Cordelia’s sharp objectivity wasn’t what Alys was in the mood to hear.

“I need to see Ivan first,” Aral said. “Something I should have done earlier. So you’ll have to go to ImpRes without me. Make the usual excuses.”

“Is there a reason you have to go alone?”

“Not alone. Miles and Roic are meeting me there.  I don’t think female company is going to be welcome by Ivan right now.” He kissed her hand. “Look at this as at one of those Neanderthal Barrayaran things you like to complain about.”

“How dare you. I never complain,” Cordelia said with a glint in her eye.  “You have a point I suppose about Ivan, but, Aral, Ivan’s a lot older than you were and he’s not you.”

“No, he’s not. All those years ago I let my temper get the better of me and dealt with it all the worse way possible in one day.” Aral stood and gently pulled his wife up with him, holding both her hands. “Ivan’s been stewing on all this for weeks. Do you want to take a bet on whether he’s handling this better or worse than I did?”

“No.”

“Me neither.”

They were interrupted by Miles knocking and entering, greeting his mother with a swift kiss and gesturing to his father.  “I’m ready.”

“What are you doing here?” Aral asked.

“Ivan didn’t answer and you said not to go in – not to let anyone in – without you, so I’m here.”

“And I also told you to wait there until I arrived.”

Miles nodded. “Yes but if I can’t go into the apartment it makes no odds that I’m here. If I wait there you know I won’t wait so this way I’m here so we can go together.”

“That isn’t what I asked you to do.”

Miles smiled. “Yes, but do you see how I knew I wouldn’t  do that and told you first to pre-empt it. Do you see how much I’ve grown?” He touched his auditor symbol. “Auditor now you know.”

Cordelia tilted her head at Aral. “You asked him to go there and wait and not do anything?”

Aral looked at his son sighed. “Stranger things have happened.”

“Not that strange,” Cordelia retorted.

“Hey!” Miles said, “did you miss my how I’ve grown speech? We should go now,” he said moving to the door encouragingly. He directed a stare at his father and Aral nodded. Miles had the information he wanted. Aral had given Miles the codes the woman had given him and told him to find out what he could about her without alerting Illyan. Miles as usual had moved fast.

 But as he said goodbye to Cordelia, Mark, tugging at the collar of his house uniform, knocked lightly on the open door and entered with Kareen.

“We’re ready,” he said and frowned at Miles. ”I thought you already left.”

“I did.”

 “We’re going to see Ivan,” Aral said, “Miles and I, so we may join you later.”

“Oh I see.”

“We’re overdue a visit,” Aral elaborated in answer to Mark’s curious look, “and he’s not answering his calls.” 

“He’s not given Martya her things back yet,” Kareen said, hating to be the one to have to say it. “It’s not as if Mama can buy a whole new wardrobe for her for the wedding at this short notice. It’s not just wedding clothes either.”

“You’re right,” Cordelia said, “and I’m sure Aral will find a way of persuading Ivan to return her belongings.”

Kareen nodded. “Thanks. It’s not that I’m unsympathetic but it’s unreasonable of him to do this.”

“Unreasonable?” Miles asked. “You really want to level that accusation at him after what’s happened?”

“Any news on moving the lab?” Aral asked Mark as Kareen and Miles exchanged scowls.

“Shouldn’t be longer than three days,” Mark said and tugged his collar again. “But I know it’s not just because of Borgos that Ivan won’t come here.”

Cordelia sighed, “Mark, no one is blaming you.  Ivan will come to his senses.”

“You didn’t help by stunning him,” Miles said and when everyone stared at him, Miles stared back, “It’s the truth.” Made even worse that it wasn’t the first time Mark had knocked Ivan out but Miles knew he didn’t have to remind Mark about that. Miles wasn’t going to stir that hornet’s nest with either of them but a doubt nagged at him now that perhaps with Ivan he should have.

“Mark was worried about Martya,” Kareen said defensively, “Ivan was rough with her, and it’s not as if we haven’t tried to explain it to Ivan but he won’t even listen to us.”

“To Ivan,” Cordelia said walking up to Mark and Kareen, “it’s as if you were protecting her and Borgos. Ivan’s the one who was knocked out, not them but I’m sure Aral will try and get him to see it from your point of view.” Cordelia’s mouth curved up as she addressed Mark.  “Now I assume you’re too smart, love, to insult me and your father by asking if we expect you to move out of the house?”

Mark coloured and grabbed Kareen’s hand. “We’ll meet you downstairs”

 “We need to go too,” Aral said.

***

“So Ivan’s being watched.”

“Is that a statement or a question,” Aral asked sinking back into the ground car seat as they were driven to Ivan’s apartment.

“I know it now but it was the only thing that made sense.  Why else would you wait?” Miles turned to his father.  “Roic and I did a sweep and we couldn’t detect anything but Ivan – looks like he asleep on the floor. As soon as I get in there, I’m going to do another scan…You know, I remember you said that we – me and Ivan - would keep our privacy.”

Aral met his son’s accusing stare and tone and nodded. “Yes. Unless we had no choice to violate it.”

“Damn that small print.”

“It’ll get you every time.  You know this kind of intrusion is never done lightly that’s why I want to know who she is. But this is Illyan’s hire.” Aral filled Miles in on most of the call in a succinct summary.

“You think she was supposed to call Aunt Alys first?”

“I’m sure of it, but she called you and got me instead.  We’ll see what happens when Ivan lets us in.”

“I don’t see why we can’t just go in,” Miles said for the millionth time.

“I want to see how long it takes for him to wake up,” Aral said, meeting his son’s incredulous look with a smile, “besides, he’s safe. She’s watching until we get there.”

Miles leaned forward and accessed the car’s comconsole.  “Here’s her file. I spoke to Allegre first, there were too many bells and whistles on those codes.”

Aral mused on these small changes in his son. The unlimited access his auditor position had given him had made Miles step back or was it just his experience on knowing when to _not_ to step on someone’s boots.

“Allegre wasn’t happy about it, about the job itself,” Miles clarified. Allegre hadn’t said so out right but it was obvious this wasn’t something he fully agreed with or was it that he didn’t like this particular employee doing the job?  “She only works for ImpSec but she’s contracted through an agreement she made with Illyan a few years ago. Her codenames are Blue and Sparrow. Let’s call her Blue.” Miles blew out a breath. “This girl’s life consists of one personal shipwreck after another, but her mission successes are impressive.  She’s also a friend of Laisa’s but she knew her before Laisa met Gregor, so it’s a coincidence.”

“What made you question it?” Aral asked scanning the background.

“Same reason ImpSec did. This Blue was groomed by a rogue agent. I read the transcript of her interrogation. She thought he was helping her recover from her Betan Ten trauma but he was using it. Everything he taught her was for her to become part of some private army and they still haven’t caught the bastard.  I thought this agent was dead.” Miles shook his head. “The things you find out when you’re not looking.”

“You can’t know everything, Miles.”

“Not yet,” Miles said.  “Anyway the short version is he’d trained her too well. She got suspicious, reported it to someone she knew at the embassy but he disappeared before they could find him. It was Illyan’s arrival in between her interrogations that led to her being hired.”  Miles hadn’t read through all the interrogations because he started to feel sympathy for her and didn’t want to. Not until he’d seen Ivan.   But it was a smart move by Illyan; ImpSec would never have left her alone and this way they both got something out of her training.

“Huh, look at that,” Miles said, “she’s only five foot two.” Miles sounded so disappointed, Aral let out a short laugh. But Aral admitted (only to himself) he had imagined her to be a lot taller too.  He looked at his son. “I’ve heard that height isn’t everything.” 

But Miles mouth was set in a grimace.  “Simon trusts her,” he said, “and Allegre says he has no reason not to but nothing’s ever 100%, if Ivan’s been hurt on her watch I’ll make her pay.”

When they reached the apartment, Aral, as he said he would, insisted they wait to see when Ivan answered the door, which he eventually did.

Aral checked his wristcom. “46 minutes. Not bad.”

Miles didn’t have time to respond, as Ivan now faced them in his falling down underwear; he was unshaven, his hair sticking up at odd angles, a groggy look in his bloodshot eyes and the reek of piss and beer emanating from the apartment.

“Party, Ivan?” Miles asked relieved to see him, but bemused too and then he noted Ivan’s pupils. “Did you take something? Apart from consuming a brewery I mean?”

“Did you see her?” Ivan asked stepping forward.

Miles averted his face from Ivan’s ripe breath and pushed him back into the apartment.

“You’ll get arrested in that fetching outfit.”

“See who?” Aral asked stepping forward and squeezing Ivan’s shoulder. “We’re here to help. What do you need?”

The look of shock on his nephew’s face spoke depressing volumes to Aral.

“I’m busy,” Ivan said defensively, “burning stuff. Got delayed.”

“Lead the way,” Aral said and with Miles and Roic they stepped over the broken crockery and sticky floor. Ivan was still staring at the door.

“I opened the door. There was no one there.”

Miles sighed. “ _We_ were there.”

Ivan looked at the floor. “Mermaid spoke to me. She was swimming in beer. S’ unusual. She must’ve closed the door. Door won’t shut.”

Aral’s slight shake of head prompted Miles to shut his mouth. Aral stepped up to Ivan. “What did she look like?”

Ivan continued to stare at the floor, “She said,” he ran a hand slowly through his hair, “it’ll get better. Didn’t have to swim away. That was rude.”

“That’s mermaids for you,” Miles murmured, “always in a damn hurry.”  So Ivan had hallucinated a mermaid but Miles would bet that this Blue had actually spoken to him. _Not_ a smart move. He raised an eyebrow at Roic who shook his head. He hadn’t picked up anything in his sweep. Okay, so maybe this girl knew what she was doing but why would she take the risk of speaking to Ivan?

“No stunners,” Ivan said suddenly, jerking his head up, he staggered and then steadied himself aiming a look at his coz. “Have things to do. You stun me I’ll add you to m’list.”

Miles would have laughed but the martial gleam in Ivan’s eye was new. Miles rested his hand on his stunner suddenly feeling the need for it.  “Ah…who’s on your list?”

“Clone. Bug Man. I’m going to get them both.” He stepped up to Roic and looked him in the eye. “No stunners. I have a vibra-knife. Want to see?”

Roic was expressionless. “That would be nice, m’lord.”

“Did you see my mermaid?”

“No, m’lord.”

Ivan patted his cheek with a grin. “Right-oh.”

“No one is going to stun you,” Aral said directing a sharp look to his son and Roic, and turning back to Ivan. “You said you were going to burn something. Where is it?”

“It’s over here. In her room. Her space room. She needed lots of space.”

Miles followed them and swore. The entire room looked like a clothing battle had taken place with a kitchen. While Ivan explained (with prompts from his uncle when he’d veer off) that he was going to burn everything on the bed with the door closed (cos he wasn’t stupid) so as not to burn the rest of the apartment, Miles came very close to using his stunner to bash Ivan’s head in. When Ivan assured them the fire wouldn’t go out because the sensors were deactivated Miles felt his heart drop to his knees. 

“You’re a fucking idiot!” Miles blasted. “God damn it, Ivan!  Are you insane?”

Ivan stared at him for a moment and then turned to his uncle. “I don’t think he was listening.”

“Listening? About you burning yourself to death? How were you going to get out? Tell me that now! How?”

Ivan suddenly laughed and he hit Miles on the shoulder. “You’re funny.” And he started to pile some extra things on the bed.

Aral put a hand on his son’s stiff shoulder. “Leave it.”

“Ice bath,” Miles hissed with gritted teeth

“No. That won’t help.”

“You should have told me.”

His father dropped his voice. “I wanted to check for myself that it was as bad as she said.” At his son’s look he said. “We’ll talk later.” Aral stepped up to Ivan and looked him in his blurry eyes. “There’s a problem with this, Ivan.”

“I’ll say there is,” Miles muttered.

“Don’t care,” Ivan said, “she doesn’t deserve damned bit of it. You can go. I’m staying.”

Aral nodded. “We’ll go if you want but she won’t see it. Won’t see her things burning if you burn them here.”

Ivan’s gaze drifted from the bed to his uncle and back to bed. He looked crushed.

“But I don’t want her here.”

“Well that’s that then,” Miles said quickly. “Why don’t we toss it all in the incinerator? It’ll burn nice in there.”

Ivan’s face frozen with a vacant look and then he smiled.  “You’re right,” he said but to his uncle, not to Miles. “I’ll take it to her house. Burn it there! She’ll see it there.”

“Now wait a minute,” Miles said, “you can’t do that.” He looked for support from his father.

“Of course he can,” Aral said approvingly, “we have the ground car outside. It’ll all fit.” 


	10. Fire and Ice (Ivan Returns Her Things |Miles Makes His Point)

Miles went along with it because he was sure that the count had a plan to divert Ivan from doing what Ivan was now determined to do. But there was one point Miles would not go along with.

“You are not going out in your underwear, Ivan. You are Vor!” And since his father had gone off to confer with Roic about something in the kitchen, it was up to Miles to convince Ivan that he had to wear clothes but no, Ivan, _not_ your parade uniform and _not_ yourdress uniform.

“You’re representing yourself, Ivan.” Miles felt like he was talking to a child at times and as Ivan’s eyes began to appear more glossy, Miles was waiting for Ivan to either pass out or vomit his guts out although he wasn’t sure how pissed he was. He’d seen Ivan in various states of inebriation but never like this – both logical and out of his tree. Miles put it down to the painkillers that Ivan had taken and the tranq he was shot with – it must have mucked with the alcohol, providing Ivan with crazy soup for brains. He wanted to blame this Blue but he knew she’d probably saved his life.

Ivan settled on wearing his house uniform and by the time he was ready, Roic had already hauled the booty into the ground car. And that was when Ivan put his foot down.

“Represent myself,” he said with that grin that was beginning to disturb Miles. Ivan placed a hand on each of his uncle’s cheeks. “You stay, alright?”

“You’re not going on your own,” Miles snapped, still waiting for the moment to end this and also it was Ivan. He wasn’t going to leave him was he?

“I’m going with Roic,” Ivan said rolling his eyes at Miles and then staggering back. “Uh…what happened? Room went away. S’ok don’t worry….s’back.”

Miles swore as he held Ivan steady.

“We would like to watch,” Aral said, “if we stay in the car and don’t get out, will you let us come?”

“Unless you’ve changed your mind,” Miles said directing this at Ivan _and_ his father.

Ivan’s eyes cleared a little, “They have to burn and then…”

“Then it’s over,” Aral finished. “Right, Ivan?”

“Over. It’ll get better,” Ivan murmured. Miles for a moment saw his old cousin surface and then there was a sudden flash of pain on Ivan’s face that staggered Miles.

“Going to burn it,” Ivan whispered.  “You stay in the car,” he said pointing to Miles. “You can watch.” Ivan turned to his uncle. “Make him stay in the car. He doesn’t listen.”

Aral sighed. “Don’t I know it.”

Miles scowled.

***

So on a warm summer’s night, Roic was helping Ivan pile Martya’s things on the edge of the Koudelka driveway. Including planting a firework in the adjacent garden. Ivan had discovered a box of fireworks in the ground car (which Roic was to deliver the next day, as the Vorkosigan donation to one of the orphanages.)  Aral managed to talk his nephew down into only taking one of them. Ivan took the biggest one and Miles wondered if he was the only sane person left on Barrayar (something he voiced out loud and had made his father laugh – it wasn’t _that_ funny). But he trusted his father. And that’s what he clung on to because his father was not budging on this.

When the fire of Martya’s belongings was lit, and it did indeed go whoosh, Ivan (with Roic’s help again because Ivan said the chime kept moving) pulled the small chain and Ivan hammered on the door. Since no lights appeared, Ivan waited with Roic – who had a small fire extinguisher close by, which he told Lord Vorpatril was for when he was ready to put it out. Roic kept watch that the fire didn’t spread, and as the flames licked higher, giving off unusual smells and fumes, he pondered if this was the kind of work he’d often be called on to do as a Vorkosigan Armsman.

Ivan sat down on the driveway and stared into the fire, he could see her underwear turning black. “It’s a nice night, isn’t it?”

“Yes, m’lord. It’s been a fine summer so far.”

A small ground car came up and stopped suddenly.

“Firework, Roic.”

Roic walked over to the garden and lit the huge firework. Ivan brushed off his uniform, straightened his collar and watched Duv emerge first.

“Ivan? What the – Delia stay in the car.”

“Like hell!” Delia got out as did Martya and Olivia. Olivia took one look and walked into the house. “None of my business. Goodnight everyone.”

“Olivia!” Delia called but Olivia, leaving the front door open, disappeared into the house. “Oh God…is that – Martya, that’s your dress!! He’s burning your dresses. Oh Ivan, how could you?”

But Martya was in a trance.  It was the first time either of them had met since _that_ day and everything was suddenly exposed in a cold, ugly light. Martya stepped towards him, pale in the glow of the moons and the flames casting odd shadows on her face; there was a plea in her voice as she said, “Ivan.”

“Shut. Up.” The bitter edge in his words startled her – startled them all. He pointed at Martya. “You shut up. Here is your stuff,” he spat and pointed to the fire; the heat of it did nothing to melt the cold that had suddenly doused him. “ _He_ won’t be able to see you wear any of it or drink out of any of it.” Ivan stared into the car. “Is he in there?”

“Of course not! Ivan, listen to me. Please. I know I made mistakes…spending all that time there and not - and not – being with you but I didn’t plan it and me and Enr - him we never did anything together. I swear it – you have to believe me.”

Ivan’s laugh was harsh and incredulous.  “Believe you? Believe _you?_ You lied to me! Every single day you lied to my face.”

The memory hit him again. Martya with _him_ on the sofa, laughing with the Bug Man, in love with the Bug Man, laughing at Ivan. Ivan the Idiot. Ivan the Fool.  And suddenly the firework Roic had lit finally went off. It screamed into the air and an ongoing blossom of red and blues shattered the night with sound and colour.

Ivan felt something else shatter.

“You’re not a Vorpatril,” Ivan continued in an acid tone, “you don’t deserve the name. You’re not a Koudelka.  A Koudelka wouldn’t do this.” Laughing at him, laughing at him all this time. Every day _._ “You don’t deserve a name at all! It should be blanked out.”

“Ivan that’s enough!” Delia said.

“You stay out of this!” Ivan said, “This is none of your business.”

“She’s my sister!”

“She’s nothing but a traitor and a whore.”

A collective gasp and Martya’s fury ignited; she moved past her sister to confront Ivan.  “How dare you!” she screamed. “You take that back Ivan Vorpatril! You take that back now! I am none of those things! None of them! I may have made a mistake but not that – none of that. You take that back right now.” There was anger and tears in her voice but Ivan was unmoved.

“All the nights you stayed there with him and you want me take it back?”

“It wasn’t like that!”

“I don’t believe you. Why should I? You lied. All the time. Nothing but lies every day. Every night.” He stepped towards her. “I take nothing back.  I should throw you in that fire,” Ivan said with a vicious cut of disgust, “you deserve to burn for it. A Koudelka Traitor. I hope he betrays you too and rips out your heart. I hope he’s exactly like you are.”

Martya gave a gasp of pain and opened and closed her mouth and fled into the house.

“You get out of here now!” Delia said. “How dare you! You have no right to speak to her like that!”

“I have every right,” Ivan said, “You better watch this one, Duv. Looks like she approves of traitors and whores.”

Delia punched him hard in the jaw; only Duv’s quick thinking stopped Ivan from landing in the fire. Ivan found himself being helped up off the driveway by Roic as he patted down Ivan’s singed tunic. Ivan pushed him off.

“You need to leave,” Duv ordered and directed a look at Roic. “Right now.”

“It didn’t have to be like this,” Delia said, tears pouring down her cheeks as Duv stood between them and Delia stood with her fists clenched.  “You have to leave before you make this worse.”

“Put out the fire!” Ivan shouted.

They thought they’d got through to him but Ivan was staring at the opposite house where sleepy eyed children and curious adults had come out to see where the fireworks were coming from.

“Roic!” Ivan said, “Can’t you see there are kids there! Give me that.” Ivan pulled the extinguisher out of Roic’s hands and put out the fire himself; the stench and fumes making everyone’s eyes water. Ivan turned to the family. “It’s okay,” he shouted to the children. “You won’t get hurt. The fires out. You went get hurt.”

The parents held on to their children and pulled them inside. Delia and Duv seemed to have been rendered speechless and Ivan turned and saw Martya stood in the doorway.

“Let’s go, Roic. I’m done here.”

And they walked to the waiting ground car.

 ***

Ivan woke up, rushed to the bathroom and vomited his insides out. He stayed in the bathroom until his head allowed him to walk upright but his jaw continued to throb in sync with his heart beat.  It took a few moments before he realised he was at Vorkosigan Surleau. He walked straight outside into the sunlight, carried on walking before his vision cleared, stripped off what clothes he had on and dived into the lake.

Miles finished his calls and joined his father outside, placing a bucket by the chair.  They sat in silence for a while before Miles said, “Aunt Alys is going to kill us both when we return.”

Roic had been fielding calls with the unenviable job of informing everyone that Count Vorkosigan, Lord Vorkosigan and Lord Vorpatril were unavailable but they would call soon.

Count Vorkosigan had spoken to Illyan, his wife and to Alys only. Alys interrogated Aral about the events she had heard of second hand, and let him know just what she thought of his high handed behaviour.  It had been a long time since Alys had spoken to him like that and Aral quite enjoyed it.

“I did what I thought was best, he’s got it out of his system and the boy is fine. I’ll have him call you soon. I’ll speak to you later, Alys.” And he’d cut the com.

Roic was now catching up on sleep and any further calls about Ivan remained unanswered.

“Do you think he’s ever getting out of there?” Miles asked as Ivan continued to swim.

“I remember it was trial to get you both out of the water when you were children. Patience, Miles.” Aral looked around. “Enjoy this small moment of peace while it lasts; I know you have important things to do, but it won’t be long now.”

“Oh _I’m_ not going anywhere,” Miles said narrowing his eyes at his cousin.

Ivan slowed his laps and Miles stood, picked up the bucket, walked over and watched Ivan pull himself out of the water. Miles handed him a towel from the bench. Ivan rasped a thanks as he dried himself off.

“You’re welcome,” Miles said, grabbed the bucket and tossed ice water over Ivan’s chest.

Ivan’s breath whooshed out in gasps and he staggered. “A - are you crazy?”

“Am I crazy?” Miles roared “Me? Am I the one who was going to set fire to myself?”

“Wh-what?” Ivan shuddered, grabbing a robe off the bench and wrapping himself in it. “It w-wasn’t like that!”

Miles walked up to him, his eyes glittering. “Let me explain this so your soft, idiot brain can understand,” he said biting off each word.  “You disabled the bedroom sensors but not the others. The sensors wouldn’t know you were in that fucking room so it would seal that door shut to protect the rest of the apartment. You wouldn’t have been able to open it. Did you think of that? Did you?”

Ivan paled but he stood his ground. “I would have got out. I’m not stupid.”

Miles breathed, the pressure on his chest that he hadn’t realised was there was gone.  “So you wanted to get out?”

“Of course.”  Ivan stared at his coz, suddenly realising what Miles meant. He shuddered again.  “Oh for God’s sake! No. I wasn’t trying to kill myself.”

“Good. Because if you do anything like this again _I’ll_ kill you.” And Miles stalked off. “There’s hot, fresh coffee on the table.”

Miles sat down at the table and Aral raised his eyebrows. “Feel better?”

“You’ll talk to him about Borgos and Mark?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah, I feel better.”

 

Eventually Ivan joined his uncle and Miles at the table and moved the chair so it was in the sun, out of the umbrella shade. Aral lifted the lid off the food dish but Ivan went straight for the coffee. He drank it scalding hot before he slowly dished out the fried breads on to his plate. He drank another cup and used it to keep his hands warm.  Once he’d eaten something he cleared his throat.

“I don’t remember getting here.”

“You passed out in the car,” Miles said. “You were not good company on the trip here.”

Ivan gave him a look.

“Do you remember…everything?” Miles asked.

Ivan nodded but at his distressed and defensive look, Miles shook his head. Not the time to rag on him with this one. He did owe Ivan after all and he’d made his point with the ice bucket.

“You don’t have to say,” Miles said with a shrug, “Roic and Duv have filled us in – Duv called to check on you,” he said in answer to Ivan’s unspoken look. “He was worried.  He’s not the only one who’s called. Your mother’s called several times.”

Ivan flinched and Miles took that as a very good sign. _Yeah, you can deal with Aunt Alys._

“Where’s Roic?” Ivan asked. He owed him a thank you.

“Having a well-deserved sleep,” Miles said.

“We’ve brought you fresh clothes,” Aral said. “You can change here for the pre-reception at ImpRes. Then we’ll all go on to the Council of Counts reception. I believe your mother has one of Laisa’s elderly relatives she wants you to squire.”

Ivan ran a hand through his damp hair and sighed. “I’ll be ready, sir,” he said. What choice did he have? Time to get back to it.

Aral nodded. “You have a few minutes. Finish your breakfast.”

Ivan turned to Miles and frowned. “Don’t you have things to do?”

Miles shrugged. “They can wait.”

The cousins exchanged looks and there was no need to say more about it. He glanced at his uncle – still surprised that his uncle hadn’t stopped him last night; they had his back and that was the beginning and the end of it.

“It’s over now isn’t it?” Miles stated more than asked.

Ivan looked past them both into the lake. “Yeah. I have to say something…” He’d rather not say it in front of Miles but did it matter now? He scrubbed a hand over his face and turned to face his uncle. “I did listen to what you told me.”

Aral raised his eyebrows. “What _I_ told you? When?”

“At my wedding. I did listen and I tried. I don’t want you to think I didn’t.“

“Ivan –“

Ivan cut him off with a shake of his head. “Let me just say it. You said it would be hard work and God,” Ivan let out a pained laugh, “she was hard work. And you said I shouldn’t give up when things were difficult and I didn’t. I tried. But nothing worked. I know that part was my failure. I know it.” He rubbed his eyes. “I know it. I put her first as you said, but I didn’t do that right either. She just used it to be with someone else.” _And I never saw it coming._

“Ivan…” Aral shook his head. “You left out something important.”

“I’m sure I have,” Ivan said with a short hollow laugh.

“The reason you’re supposed to put her first is because she was supposed to do the same for you. I didn’t mean my words to be taken the way you took them, Ivan and I’m sorry for that.  Sorry for many things I should have done. But that’s my error.”

“There wasn’t anything _you_ could have done about this,” Ivan said incredulous and uncomfortable with his uncle apologising. It just felt _wrong._

“Perhaps.” Aral leaned forward.  “Ivan, the marriage wasn’t yours to make work _without_ her. You’re supposed to do it together.  You didn’t fail. The marriage failed but you can hold your head up – you know you gave it your best. Ask yourself if she did.”

All Ivan knew was that she had taken his trust and used it to full advantage. The shame of it was still there. She said he was at the top of her list that day she proposed. For Ivan that now meant trust and gullibility. Someone who wouldn’t question her.  Someone who had let her get away with making a fool out of him. Less than a year of marriage and it was over. It was his failure no matter how he looked at it. But for all that he hadn’t betrayed her – he hadn’t done that.

“I know no one will ever do this to me again,” Ivan said with quiet bitterness. 

Aral didn’t waste words about hope; he knew Ivan was not in a place to hear them. Perhaps Ivan’s disposition would make him get through this with more ease but Aral wasn’t going to assume anything; this may have changed his nephew more than any of them ever would fully realise. All of which meant he definitely had to have the other conversation with his nephew.

“We should get ready,” Ivan said. Aral signalled to Miles who left the table and Ivan braced himself.

“There’s nothing left to talk about, sir,” Ivan said. The hopeful note made Aral smile.

“You have to call your mother before we leave.”

“Oh.” Ivan grimaced. “I’ll do that unless you –”

“Not a chance. I’ve already done one round with your mother. But I’m going to ask you for two things. First, the rest of the Koudelkas -“

“I don’t blame them,” Ivan said, the sorrow in his voice comforted Aral. “I’m not going to make it difficult between our families. You don’t have to worry on that score, sir, but I know it’s changed everything.” He felt his tender jaw and wondered if Delia would speak to him again. He was sorry for the crack he’d made to Duv but not for what he’d said about Martya so he supposed she wouldn’t.

Aral nodded. “But here is the second thing. It’s a promise and I’ll want your word as Vorpatril on it. You won’t like it but you’ll see that I’m right one day.”

Ivan’s face became stubborn and at the glimmer of Padma in Ivan’s expression, Aral was more determined to do this for his nephew. But getting Ivan to see sense and swallow his pride, especially so close to the aftermath Aral knew wasn’t going to be easy; especially considering Ivan’s history with Mark.

“It’s about Borgos and Mark. Let’s discuss this ‘list’ of yours logically.  Let’s start with Borgos who you know didn’t know Martya was married to you.”

Miles watched from the house as his father and Ivan talked. He saw Ivan’s face go through various expressions from anger, incredulity to mulishness.  It took longer than Miles thought it would but eventually they both stood and Aral put out his hand; Ivan hesitated, shook it and Aral pulled him into a fierce hug.  


	11. Epilogue (Endings, Beginnings and Ma Kosti’s cold Summer Soup)

**Eve’s Apartment**

“You’re not as upset as I’d thought you’d be,” Eve understated.

Illyan smiled. “Lord Vorpatril is safe.”

If Illyan wasn’t going to bring up her not calling Lady Alys, Eve certainly wasn’t.

“But he might remember and so that’s what I wanted to tell you; it’s all in place. Allegre suspended me.”

It had been quite humiliating admitting to Allegre that she may have compromised her cover; especially considering the review going on but Allegre had also not taken it as badly as Illyan either, although she had pre-empted it all with the context of how this was her first screw up and that she knew her limitations and that jobs like this weren’t for her, no matter how she trusted Illyan. There were lines.  That was the only thing Allegre reacted to; Eve thought he looked pleased about that but it was hard to tell.

And then she told Allegre he should suspend her for a few months so she could think more about what she’d done wrong.  She also told him her additional solution and he agreed to it.  (She’d received some kind of commendation for her work in Little Komarr which may have helped him be so amenable. Not that she could tell anyone about the commendation or that it meant much considering she had no rank but it was nice to have.)

“You’re leaving for Earth? That’s your solution?” Illyan asked. “Isn’t that a touch drastic?”

“It’s the best way to ensure Lord Vorpatril doesn’t find out and the best way for me to keep my cover.”

She couldn’t lose her job.  Her ImpSec work was the only thing she was good at (excepting present mission screw up) and this was her way of fighting for it; she wanted to continue to work for Barrayar (which is how she saw it) even if Allegre wasn’t Illyan.

“With you all to remind Lord Vorpatril that he was intoxicated, if he ever brings anything up, and with him not hearing my voice for a long time, he’s bound to lose the association and when I return to Barrayar, if I ever meet him,” which was more than likely because of Laisa “everything will be alright by then. I’m sure he’ll have forgotten it all.”

She hoped she could forget too and get rid of that feeling that was riding her since she first saw him. It was bizarre; she couldn’t slip him into one of the lock boxes in her head. He kept popping out and making her think about him.  A lot.  Well it was an odd mission and it was over now. It was over.

Distance. She needed a whole lot of distance.

“And Allegre’s agreed.” Simon knew he had; Allegre had told him that Eve’s insistence on punishing herself had saved him a job, and Simon knew Allegre was relieved she hadn’t gained a taste for that kind of job. They both knew too people who did.

“Allegre wants to review the situation in three months. I think he has jobs lined up for me on Earth.  I also spoke to the university and they’ve agreed for me do next semester by correspondence. I did it last time. It’ll be tough but I’ll do it.  I’m not giving that up either. I leave the morning after the wedding.”

“And what if Lord Vorpatril speaks to you at the wedding?”

Eve’s stomach did that pulling thing again and she let out a breath.  “I’m taking something to part lose my voice. It’s not dangerous but it can only be taken for a few hours.”

“It looks like you’ve thought of everything.”

Yeah, Eve thought sourly, long after I should have.

“How is Laisa taking it?” Illyan asked.

And this was the worst part about it. Leaving again. But Eve would be at the wedding and she would fulfil her post wedding promise to attend some events as Laisa had requested – it just wouldn’t be until next year.

“I’ll be back in the Spring. She’ll understand. I’m blaming work.”

“So you haven’t told her.”

“Not yet. I’ll send her a message…when I’m a couple of wormholes away.”

***

**Ivan’s Apartment**

Ivan had boxed up the last of Martya’s things, uncaring of the state they were in and sent them on to her. He also sent her the wedding gifts back for her to return. It was wrong to keep them; Ivan felt that quite strongly. He donated the bed, dresser and wardrobes to a charity and paid for them to be delivered to them that very day. It was only when the room was stripped bare that he felt something ease in his chest and head. Only a little, but it was a start.  It was a beginning.

After conversations with his uncle, his mother and Olivia (who he’d bonded with after they fought side by side to protect Dono), Ivan opted to have the divorce done and dusted quickly and cleanly and Falco ensured this happened (although Ivan was sure his mother had had some influence too). Ivan’s decision was more for Drou and Kou’s sake than anyone else’s.  He refused to compensate Martya for anything he’d destroyed but he did give Drou and Kou a huge amount of money for the non-existent damage he caused to the driveway.

When they came to fix his apartment door he started to muse again about that dream he’d had, still so clear in his head, of that voice telling him optimistically that everything was going to be alright. He knew what it was. He’d just told himself what he wanted to hear and the pills and booze had conjured up a hot mermaid with a husky galactic lilt to tell him so. He smiled. As dreams went it was a good one. Especially amongst the other memories he had of that whole day and night; some of which made him cringe but he got over it by blaming it all on the reason why. Most of the time that worked.

But still, eventually, maybe everything would be alright. But there was one thing Ivan had to do to continue repairing his life. It was a compromise but he’d given his word

Borgos he’d reconciled with in his head thanks to his uncle; he remembered Borgos’s shock when he found out Ivan was Martya’s husband. It didn’t salve the anger and the humiliation but Ivan couldn’t in all good conscience punch the damned bastard’s lights out for being duped as much as he was. Mark, though, Mark was another matter…

**Vorkosigan House**

It happened at dinner. All the Vorkosigans were there and Lady Alys and Simon.  Duv was there too without Delia but Kareen was there with Mark. Ivan was returning from the bathroom, when he entered the room and stunned Mark from behind at the perfect angle for Mark’s head to flop down face first into Ma Kosti’s famous cold Summer Soup.

“Bullseye,” Ivan said with that quick boyish grin and went to eat his soup.

It’s hard to describe the chaos that followed afterwards, mainly caused by Kareen letting out some quite unladylike language and having to be held back by Duv who was trying and failing not to laugh. Miles immediately looked to his father, expecting anger but saw instead relief. He also noted how unconcerned the Armsman were. Miles leaned forward.

“You knew he was going to do this?”

“It’s a compromise,” Aral said.

“How is _that_ a compromise?” Miles asked jerking his head towards a prone Mark being carried out the room.

“Wait and see.”

Mark woke up in a tea party in the library. He sprang up, reeking of vegetables and onions, and was faced with his mother and Aunt Alys drinking tea while watching him. There was some soothing classical music playing in the background.

“Cake?” Cordelia asked.

Mark clutched his head and looked around.  “What happened?”

“Here, drink this first,” Cordelia handed him a cup of tea and Mark mechanically drank it. It was very soothing and he drained the cup. She poured him another which he sipped.

“There’s been a lot going on around here,” Cordelia said, “including a lot of misdirected emotion and I for one am heartily sick of it. What happened today has nothing to do with anyone but you and Ivan.”

“Ivan. He sucker stunned me,” Mark gasped, standing up.

“Sit down.”   Cordelia sighed. “Yes, Ivan stunned you and in order to prevent a long drawn out game of stunner tag between the two of you for the rest of your lives this ends today. We move forward from today.”

“If this is about –“

“Ah ah!” Lady Alys wagged a finger, “listen to your mother.”

“We are not going to rake up the past,” Cordelia said, “we are not going over the ‘what you did to Ivan’, and the ‘what Ivan did to you’ – whatever the reasons, whatever the excuses you two are going to draw a line under it. Starting now.”

Mark rubbed his head. “Tell him that.”

Alys smiled. “I am so pleased you said that.”

Cordelia pressed her pin. “Let him in.”

Ivan walked in with Roic behind.

Mark stared. “Not taking any chances?” he asked motioning to Roic who stood to the side watching Mark.

Ivan shrugged. “Not my idea, your brother’s. So…are we done?”

Mark was incredulous. “Am _I_ done?”

“Yeah because I tell you now, you knock me out a third time, you won’t be so lucky.”

“Ivan!” Alys said warningly.

“Had to be said,” Ivan said grudgingly. “Well?” he asked and held out his hand. Mark stared at it, nodded and shook it and Ivan nodded back.  There, Ivan thought, he’d kept his word to his uncle.

“Right,” Ivan said, “we’re off for a drink, me, Miles and Duv. You coming?”

Mark was speechless. Ivan gave him a long look. “If you’re coming change because you reek and you’re not going to show me up. And you have to calm Kareen down. We had to lock her in the Yellow Parlour.”

 

When they left the room, Alys turned to Cordelia.

“Did you put something in Mark’s tea?”

“Of course.”

 

**The Tavern**

“You look better,” Duv said to Ivan as they took over the best booth in the place.

Ivan shrugged. “Today I feel it. Been getting rid of things.” And he realised the things he still had. Good friends for a start – like Duv.  Delia wasn’t speaking to Ivan but Duv was doing what he could to make sure it didn’t interfere.  Ivan appreciated it more than he could say.  He’d lost more than Martya with this divorce.

When they had their drinks Miles insisted on a toast. They toasted Duv’s promotion which was the reason for the dinner in the first place and Ivan toasted Miles’s betrothal which he hadn’t yet done.  It was a great evening until Ivan toasted his divorce and then it got serious which isn’t what he wanted.

“Today is a good day,” Ivan insisted, “to new beginnings.”

They toasted that and then Ivan added, “and to Ma Kosti’s soup.”

And they all laughed. Even Mark.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Galactic size thanks to zoya1416 for ongoing discussion, beta reads suggested edits etc etc ! YOU ARE A STAR!!!! Also huge thanks for mentioning 'ghosts' and for the nudging me re Miles and Aral. And the length of this is entirely your fault! :D 
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks to Sue for initial beta read too :).  
> Thanks for letting me drive you both mad with this one.


End file.
